My Dad

Dad was born just before the war When it came he was almost four To the countryside he was sent Stayed with his grandmother, that meant

After all the battles were won He then moved back down to London He had half sisters and brothers For they were not his own mother’s

Dad didn’t get on well at school Maybe because he felt a fool A teacher said to him, ‘One day In a dead end job you will stay’

Growing up, one thing he did like Was to cycle out on his bike Especially with half nephew Roy He really did this time enjoy

Dad could get up quite a fast pace And took part in many a race He had some medals that did show How far and fast he once did go

As I said the war had ended And the rules were now amended National service was then required So a uniform dad attired

Then, later, when home he had come Dad got to know Vera, my mum And one thing to another led – In 1959 they wed!

Dad tried out many types of role Until he found his final goal Cemet’ry superintendent That job for him must have been meant

For although dad lost his letter God had good plans for the better Such that it soon must have been found And for that work he was then bound

Thus it was they moved to Marlow Into a tied house they did go Soon they had children, one and two But poor Joy’s years were very few

After that mum was quite unwell Many more jobs now to dad fell And later, when I came along Mum really was not very strong

But dad stayed faithful by her side And for his children did provide Kindly looked after Mark and me Did the washing and made our tea

One night dad stubbed his biggest toe And off to A&E did go Where they declared a broken bone About which dad did start to moan

He seemed to think the fault was mine As I’d asked him about the sign Which was by the cemetery gate That’s where his poor toe met its fate

One holiday he tried using a tent But I don’t really think it’s meant To be that when down comes some rain It does under your tent all drain

Another year there was thunder Such that we began to wonder Was this really the driest way To spend our annual holiday!

When a teenager we would stay In youth hostels, the YHA Cycling on our bike for two Very fond of this time I grew

Then each year to Dieppe dad went Tho’ only a short time there spent ‘twas, to him, a kind of retreat As with old friends he used to meet

Cycling, for dad, a way of life Alongside caring for his wife And his God helped to keep him strong Throughout the days both hard and long

When he became a new grandad Much fun with grandchildren he had In twenty-oh-one he retired But other jobs he acquired

He liked to drive a minibus As long as people didn’t fuss He took the old folks to day care Or to a luncheon that was there

The time continued to fly by To care for mum he still did try A loving husband and devout But finally he was worn out

It seemed that as he turned eighty Things all became much more weighty We found them people to assist And do the jobs upon his list

Then mum moved up to Holmers House She was no longer close to spouse But later dad moved to a flat… Next door!… so for now that was that

And the highlight of their time there To which some of you did come to share It was their diamond wedding date A celebration, oh so great!

Then in 2020, July To his wife he said goodbye But quite soon he would follow on Up to heaven where she had gone