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Kathy Dingus





If I close my eyes real tight

I can just imagine him sitting

in his favorite chair

with a cup of steaming hot coffee

nestled in two big hands

his bifocal reading glasses perched

half-way down his nose,

the way he always liked...

with his music turned up real loud,

strumming his guitar,

trying to play his tin whistle in time

with a favorite jig.

If I try just a little harder and

strain so close to hear

I might just hear him say

"Hey, Kathy, come and listen" and

...he wouldn't hush

until I came and sat down beside him,

with the radio up real loud

and his finger across his lips as if to

warn everyone that

I'm trying to hear this marvelous song.

The song was always worth the listen.

Now what am I supposed to do?

He's not here to prod me,

to challenge me,

to tease me and to love me

in his own quiet way.

What a loss I feel today

and everyday...

I'm glad he knew how much

we loved him.

When he breathed his final breath

I was breathless...

the air was so still...

He was at rest.

I wanted to scream

with the finality of it.

You see, as his fight ended,

mine just began;

the fight to keep in control of myself

and to push myself onward and upward

as he would have wanted me to do.

Once again he had to be a pioneer...

go on ahead,

blaze a new trail,

so we can find our way

and follow closely

when our change comes.

I hope he remembers

to mark the trail

the WAY

as he taught me,

so I will not miss one single clue

I was always following him,

and I won't stop now.

I just hope he makes a trail

big and wide

for he has a mighty following of friends

and family who miss him so...

And one day they'll be tagging along behind him,

singing the "Wilderness Road" and

"Sweet Betsy from Pike".

I miss him always and he's ever in my thoughts,

especially when I hear the crows caw,

and feel the autumn chill

in the crisp morning air.

When the frost gathers on the

brilliantly colored leaves,

and the sky is so blue it hurts

to look upon it.

When the fire crackles and pops

and when a guitar strums...

Well like I said ...always.

I was so proud to be his proud daughter.