For whatever reason, this past weekend, I found myself thinking often of my father and stepfather. Both of these important men in my life reside in heaven.
My Grandpa, My Angel
I cannot hear or see him,
But I can feel him next to me.
That’s my grandpa, my mommy says,
Watching over me.
He passed before I had the chance,
To know him very well.
But my big brothers promise me
There are stories they will tell.
Like how he served his country,
And how proud they were of him.
And how he always made them laugh
With such goofy little grins.
She will take me to the place one day,
My mommy promised me.
Of where my grandpa lies at rest,
The fourteenth fairway, so I can see.
The place he loved to spend his days
With family and friends.
Golfing, laughing, having fun,
Until the day would end.
He’s in heaven up so high,
Way above my head.
And in my heart and in my dreams,
That’s what Mommy says.
So, I cannot hear or see him,
But I can feel him next to me.
That’s my grandpa, my mommy says,
My angel watching over me.
In a little background. My daughter, who was a delightful surprise, was born 9 months after my stepfather’s passing. Amazingly, the day of my stepfather’s memorial, my husband, out of the blue, said to me, “We should have a baby girl and name her Ericka James after Rick (my stepfather).” My stepfather’s name was James Eric, and he went by Rick. Little did he or I know, but I was at this point just a few days into pregnancy. A little while later, my mother was going through my stepfather’s nightstand to look for a few things she was thinking of giving my boys, and came across my baby ring. We were surprised and thought it strange that it was on HIS nightstand. I knew once I found out I was pregnant, it was going to be a girl; it was his way of letting me know he was watching over us.
My daughter is named after her grandfather in the first name only. I spelled her name E”rick” a to honor the name he went by, Rick. A few months after she was born, I was saddened that she would never meet her grandfather. If there was anyone who had a way with children, it was my stepfather; she would have had that man wrapped around her little finger. So I wrote a poem to give her one day and wanted to share it today.
The page below is in memory of my father, Bill.
