“Only from the heart can you touch the sky”
~Rumi

Few things fill my soul to the brim
like the love for my three daughters.
Long ago youngsters,
now empowered women
in their own right,
but forever children
in my heart
nevertheless.
I become their loving witness
as they venture forth
on their respective journeys.
Stretched across the miles
our interwoven lives becomes the fabric
that will not be torn,
this is family.
I celebrate their victories
and shoulder their pain in loss,
I endure the lessons taken,
submit counsel from loving compassion,
the fatherland in stormy weather,
an anchor in safe harbor,
home in a word.
They are sunlight drenching cloudy days,
heavenly rain for the parched soul,
they teach me forgiveness for failings and foibles,
resilience imbued with fortitude,
how to stay young with fervor,
how to grow old with grace,
how to be a dad.
A father’s pride.
Copyright ©Henri Ferguson 2008

Author notes

Just last week I had all three girls together in town for their maternal grandfather’s funeral. Although a rather somber occasion as often the case these events have a way of bonding people and serve as a reminder of our own mortality. Seeing folks that I have not seen in many years and how aging affects us all takes me to that introspective place of gratitude. Like their grandfather, I too will leave this plane at some point, so there is no time like the present to say the things I want to say, and not take them with me to the other side. The sweetness of a father’s pride.