it is good that you still have that connection to them through the land...so did dad pass in the war? was that the cost? i imagine you still have a lot of them in you...smiles.
You have your parents heart.....bigger than ever, warm, and caring. Your parents are there in the house living in the air you breath, within the walls you live, on the land you walk and water you walk.
Gail, looks like the house might need just a bit of repair, but I love it. And the poem is very lovely. Thanks for sharing, and have a great weekend.
February 27, 2015 at 9:11 AM
Anonymous said...
This resonates with me and my experiences as well. I love seeing my grandparents in me and my parents. I guess that is one way we continue to live after we pass -through the succeeding generations.
their zest for living... it sounds like you have inherited it... your love shines through...for the land...your parents and all they were able to give...
their zest for living... it sounds like you have inherited it... your love shines through...for the land...your parents and all they were able to give...
A very meaningful share Gail ~ We can only hope we our parents zest for life, and their big heart ~ How lucky for you to inherit the house in the very heart of things ~
A lovely tribute Gail. Your dad, although not Irish, sounds a lot like my dad. Born in 1920, one of 7 kids, his mom died when he was 3. His father couldn't work and care for everyone, so dad and his younger brother were put in an orphanage. Dad hated it because his little bro wet the bed and he got whippin's. Daddy broke them out and they lived on the run, doing all manner to survive. Yes, hard times, hard work, honorable ethics and a good and generous heart. I only wish I could be half the person he was...mine was also in WWII, infantryman and was on Normandy Beach. May they rest in peace...
A slice-of-life poem giving us your parents, their home and yours seen through history, built with love. Excellent.
February 28, 2015 at 3:01 PM
Anonymous said...
Such a lovely tribute to your parents, a heartfelt writing.
March 2, 2015 at 6:57 AM
Daddy was
My Irish sunshine
From Dust Bowl
And
The Great Depression
From hunger
And hard work
He grew
Into a soldier I need no reminder of the cost
Husband, father
And oh, so much more
Parents gone while I live in an old house in the very heart of things
In the house they built
Midst the ashes and memories
of other old houses
The very heart of them lives
I like to say I have Dad's eyes
I hope I have their zest for living
I know I have their love of the land
And pray I have their heart
31 Comments
Close this window Jump to comment formI believe that the heart of someone who lived somewhere before can inhabit a house. Your father must have been a VERY hard worker.
February 26, 2015 at 9:11 PM
This is a great self portrait through this beautiful tribute to your parents.
February 26, 2015 at 9:18 PM
it is good that you still have that connection to them through the land...so did dad pass in the war? was that the cost? i imagine you still have a lot of them in you...smiles.
February 26, 2015 at 9:26 PM
You need no reminder the cost as it lingers in your memories. I think your parents will always live in your center, your heart.
February 26, 2015 at 10:14 PM
Gail,
You have your parents heart.....bigger than ever, warm, and caring. Your parents are there in the house living in the air you breath, within the walls you live, on the land you walk and water you walk.
They remain.........
February 26, 2015 at 10:32 PM
So nice, such great words about your parents. Thank you for sharing them with us. :-)
February 26, 2015 at 10:55 PM
What a wonderful way to weave the words into your own story. We would like to see all that's good from our parents in ourselves
February 26, 2015 at 11:41 PM
A beautiful reminiscence, many-layered, and the weaving in of those lines seems completely natural.
February 26, 2015 at 11:41 PM
This is beautiful Gail and you do have his heart and I am sure his eyes. Your Dad was to be admired as well as you. Hug B
February 27, 2015 at 6:06 AM
i can feel your feelings in this one. and you already know i love that old house...
February 27, 2015 at 7:19 AM
I like that house. I like your poem. My grandparents house looked like that too.
February 27, 2015 at 8:56 AM
Gail, looks like the house might need just a bit of repair, but I love it. And the poem is very lovely. Thanks for sharing, and have a great weekend.
February 27, 2015 at 9:11 AM
This resonates with me and my experiences as well. I love seeing my grandparents in me and my parents. I guess that is one way we continue to live after we pass -through the succeeding generations.
February 27, 2015 at 9:13 AM
their zest for living... it sounds like you have inherited it... your love shines through...for the land...your parents and all they were able to give...
February 27, 2015 at 10:44 AM
their zest for living... it sounds like you have inherited it... your love shines through...for the land...your parents and all they were able to give...
February 27, 2015 at 10:44 AM
Indeed, you are blessed. It seems they were, too.
February 27, 2015 at 11:07 AM
A very meaningful share Gail ~ We can only hope we our parents zest for life, and their big heart ~ How lucky for you to inherit the house in the very heart of things ~
February 27, 2015 at 11:14 AM
You do, I just feel it!
February 27, 2015 at 11:19 AM
Your father sounds like he was a wonderful, hard working person. Just like his daughter!
Lynne x
February 27, 2015 at 2:00 PM
Your love, respect and admiration comes shining through. Well done.
February 27, 2015 at 2:30 PM
Just found you through dVerse :) I love the imagery and family history inside this piece. I love it :)
February 27, 2015 at 2:35 PM
This one brought tears.
My parents were products of that time and knew hard work and making do and living on what they grew in the garden.,
February 27, 2015 at 3:21 PM
A lovely tribute Gail. Your dad, although not Irish, sounds a lot like my dad. Born in 1920, one of 7 kids, his mom died when he was 3. His father couldn't work and care for everyone, so dad and his younger brother were put in an orphanage. Dad hated it because his little bro wet the bed and he got whippin's. Daddy broke them out and they lived on the run, doing all manner to survive. Yes, hard times, hard work, honorable ethics and a good and generous heart. I only wish I could be half the person he was...mine was also in WWII, infantryman and was on Normandy Beach. May they rest in peace...
February 27, 2015 at 3:50 PM
Awesome poem, Gail. ♥
February 27, 2015 at 7:53 PM
That's so beautiful and tender. Thanks for sharing with us.
February 27, 2015 at 9:01 PM
A very touching way to rock the prompt; my parents died young, so I have had to build a legacy anew for my 3 daughters & 6 grandchildren.
February 27, 2015 at 9:30 PM
It's good to desire to have your father's heart...that says a lot about your father :-)
February 27, 2015 at 10:12 PM
Well said Gail:)
February 27, 2015 at 10:34 PM
fantastic honoring of your parents
February 28, 2015 at 5:21 AM
A slice-of-life poem giving us your parents, their home and yours seen through history, built with love. Excellent.
February 28, 2015 at 3:01 PM
Such a lovely tribute to your parents, a heartfelt writing.
March 2, 2015 at 6:57 AM