Sunday, June 19, 2011

Missing my Dad

In honor of my Dad's memory on this Father's Day, I'm reprinting a post I submitted to Thursday Sweet Treat in April.  I miss my Dad more and more each day, now that I'm older and understand so much more.

Happy Father's Day to all those great Dads out there.  Cherish your relationships. 


It Gives Me Great Pleasure to Introduce Our Artist/Writer of the Week, Felicia Kramer, creator of Another Bright Idea and More Bright Ideas.

Felicia Kramer. the artists extraordinaire behind Another Bright Idea and  More bright Ideas, created this stunning enhanced photograph titled, Dad & Me.

“I can’t say that I had a great relationship with my Dad, ” Felicia began. “I think he was overwhelmed with supporting such a large family and there wasn’t much time left for personal interaction. This outing to a “ranch” is therefore a special memory, one of the few times I remember having Dad’s undivided attention for a while. He loved horses – he was part of a mounted division in the army and talked fondly of his horse Tony – and I loved horses as well. What little girl doesn’t??”

“I took this precious little black & white photograph and played with overlays and effects to incorporate some color and add a lovely glow to the sky behind. Besides, that’s probably how that little girl must have felt that day. It was a day full of color, not black and white.”

“Often when I think of my Dad now a certain poem comes to mind: “my father moved through dooms of love.” It’s by my favorite poet, e.e.cummings. I love the way cummings plays with words and how the words roll off your tongue as you read them. The poem is quite long; here’s three favorite stanzas that remind me of my Dad.”

my father moved through dooms of love
by e. e. cummings

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height
My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)
and nothing quite so least as truth
–i say though hate were why men breathe–
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

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