On the eve of my sixteenth birthday, my dad died of Leukemia at the age of 47. He was a special man. I was in my fifties before I could write this poem.WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Over 40 years ago, he died.
I still miss him everyday.
Quiet country boy – Brought up hard.
Learned early how to make his way.
Strong from work and tan from sun.
Dark hair and winning smile.
I never saw him waiver, change,
in good times or in trial.
He loved hard work, family.
Served his country. Spoke the truth.
Taught with bible and example.
Twigs need bending in their youth.
Outdoors was his favorite place.
Hunting, fishing, sun, fresh air.
He taught me manly lessons
when there were no women there.
Grave illness struck, he fought hard,
working right up to the end.
He crossed the bar so peacefully
to meet his Lord, and friend.
The world won’t know how great he was.
He had no wealth or fame.
Because he would not compromise
the value of his name.
I’m older now than he was
when he left this mortal frame.
But hope, that like my dad I leave
the treasure of a name.
Dennis Price
