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A poem for the sons and fathers of the world!
Full Name: Tim Schvaneveldt
Who do you want the poem written for?: The passing away of my father.
Why do you want the poem written ?: I want to read it at a church funeral.
Key Messages: We never were close. My father left when I was 7 or 8 - divorce. Little to no memory before the divorce. He was usually gone. Now I am 52. No bad memories just very very few. Not bitter, not sweet just none.
Memorable Moments: As a boy of 12 or 13, my father and I traveled to Madison, Wis. from Logan, Utah in a car with two other men (Later learned is was to share expenses of the trip). I remember going home on a bus and waving good bye to my father and older brother Roger with sadness but anxious to get back home.
My father on the back patio on the ground with his grandson Neil teaching him to play marbles.
He and Evelyn sitting on the front porch together at a cabin we met for vacation.
Other Comments: Would like it to send a message to both sons and fathers - Make time for each other if you can. However, one does not know what is missed since missing means once knowing. Don't know if it would have been good or bad, happy or sad.
Perhaps we will meet again in another time and place and get to know each other.
Evelyn his third wife and current wife has been very good to him. Took care of him with all his illnesses. She has shouldered a heavy burden over the last many years. I want to thank her and her daughter for making it better for him.
Style: Sincere
Package Type: Deluxe
Last thoughts: I have learned about my father more through his written life story and my mothers life story than through conversations with him. Sometimes I couldn't tell which version of the story was right?
His time in the army, or as a Golf Pro. I have a half brother Wayne whom I have never met or talked with. It would have been nice to have heard these stories from him.
I still love my father.
Autumn Leaves
| At the end of an Autumn day, there's a feeling of peace in the air, the fruit trees are heavy with their load, the crop is bountiful and ready to share. The summer sun has warmed the fruit and the growing job has been done, as the early leaves start to fall in the evening breeze, the last warmth fades from the Autumn sun. There's a cool chill in the air, but everything is in its place, it's the way it should be, for every season is for turning, nothing ever lasts on Earth for all of eternity, My father left when I was seven or eight, in truth, I can't remember exactly when, because I have few memories from that time, even though I've tried to remember (again and again). That's the memory I have of my father, in fact, not bad memories, just very, very few, not bitter, not sweet, no after taste, no color, no red, no yellow, no blue. So please listen to me, sons and fathers, one day you'll be standing here just like this and then you'll start to think of all your times together and all the times together, that sadly, you've missed. And Autumn leaves keep on falling and the leaves once dropped, there they stay and everybody gets to leave this Earth, inevitably, everybody has their final day. So please make time for each other while you can, because, sadly, one day it'll be just too late and that day will be here sooner than you think, there's no accounting for the twists and turns of fate. And what is missed is never known, it's in the basket of what could've been, all of the shared experiences that never were, all of those unexplored colors - forever unseen. I don't even know if I'd have enjoyed them, I don't know whether they'd have been good, bad, happy or sad, but what I do know is that I've missed them for ever, what I do know is that you only ever have one Dad. I've learned more about my father through what's been written, far more than he ever actually told me and my mother and father's version of events differ, I guess now that will be an eternal mystery. Perhaps we will meet again in another place and maybe then we can share some time, maybe then I can piece the story together, maybe then, I'll get the words to rhyme. And I'd like to thank Evelyn and her daughter, they shouldered a heavy burden over the last many years, Evelyn, you have been very good to him, you were there to calm his eternal fears. And I wish I'd known my Dad better, I wish him peace, I wish him still and just like that perfect Autumn evening, I still love my father and I guess I always will. |
Allen Jesson
Comments:
Tim kindly replied:Allen,
You've colored my thoughts and feeling with words that I could never have written on my own. For this I am forever thankful. My Dad actually passed away this morning.
You can publish the poem on your website with my name and no need to change names in the poem.
The paper I like is "Clouds" the first option on your website.
I would like the poem autographed.
Please send me your handwritten draft.
Thank you again,
Sincerely,
Tim Schvaneveldt
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