My Dad

He was born at the turn of century twenty,
when life was more simple but labor was plenty

It seemed he was meant
to toil by the hour,
not with machines
but horses for power

From here looking back
it sounds like slave labor,
but when his work was done
He'd go help the neighbor

How could he do it
day after day,
For so many years
With so little pay

He looked at his life
by this simple measure,
a moment of fun
Made the day's work a treasure

He took his life's calling
as a gift from above,
for farming to him was a labor of love

He knew of the secret
that outweighed the strife,
he learned how to savor
The small joys of life

A nap in the grass
after lunch in the sun,
a fondness it turns out passed on to his son

A nap in the grass
the dog at his side,
enjoying the peace
simple things can provide

At the end of the day
when light would subside,
"Get the cows", he would growl,
the dog always complied

On eighty clay acres
that his father owned too
it was easy to think that was all that he knew

It was easy to think
at least until we grew older,
That all that he had
was the brawn of his shoulders

But he gazed past the fencerows Treetops and borders,
as the old team of horses carried out his orders

He could see distant places
where strange flags are unfurled,
with his feet in a furrow
my Dad saw the world.

i dont know what i will ever do without him an hopefully will not find out for a heck of a long time

wish you all the best johndeeregene

From my teenage years on, I spent a lot of years trying to run away from what I was...I was a small-town kid who grew up in Dad and Grand-dad's tractor shop, answering the phone, working the parts counter, helping out with the wrenching, whatever it took. But I had big dreams, and my background wasn't gonna hold me back, nosirree!! But after reality set in a few years later, I was living in the city, managing the parts department of a big car dealer, I realized it...what I was growing up, wasn't so bad after all. My dad and I were pretty close over the years, and I've still never had a better best friend. He's listen to my thoughts and ideas, and respected them all, even the ones he didn't agree with.

In the years since, my first wife has passed away, and I moved back to the county where I grew up...remarried to a local girl, who helped me raise my two kids pretty much the way my dad raised me. The garage closed when Dad died, and here recently I've been helping Mom maintain the property, which was neglected for a few years because...well, the garage and Dad were so much a part of one another, it was sometimes just too much for me to deal with.

When Dad died, he was in the process of overhauling his '44 Farmall H...it's still sitting there, because my brother and sister have no interest in it and I just haven't been able to bring myself to deal with it, until lately. Now I plan to finish the work he started...just like I did with raising my kids (he really started THAT, too, because of how he raised me...). I don't farm--I live in a subdivision, for goodness' sake--but I want that H to be a tribute to the man my Dad was, and to what they both represent: toughness, time-tested, and pretty uncomplicated yet totally reliable.

Your dad sounds like he was cut from the same cloth, so-to-speak. You have my sympathy, and my respect. May God bless you.

I am sorry for the loss of this young man. As a partner, with my father, it was the only job I ever had until after his death, ten years ago, and the anguish was overwhelming. Pa had his first heart attack when I was sixteen and as the oldest son the burden became mine. One of my dear friends shared with me that the pain of the death loss was in direct correlation to the amount of the loss.

The only thing worse than the pain of such a loss would be to have such a loss with no pain at all. Time is a great healer; and nothing, nor no one, can take away God's gift of good memories.

Work hard and savor the good memories; God Speed.