A Collection About The Memories Of Daddy: At His Hands, Only A Father’s Love, First

This collection is a daughter’s dream of poetry. It is dedicated to the real times; good and bad of being a daughter and specifically focusing on the relationship between father and daughter. First addressing the idea that event he man that a girl sees as perfect can become flawed when he experiences the death of his wife but in the end forgiveness is what has to be done so that everyone can have peace. Next we look at our hands and compare them to that of what we see in our father’s hands: the size, the love, the strength, all the things that hands do and so much more. Finally we reflect on our “firsts” and how all of them were joyous and shared with our father. Through laughs and tears we remember and think about the joys of having a close relationship with our father’s. It is a collection that will make you call your dad and say “Thank you” after you read it, or it will make you thank your mom if your dad wasn’t there, either way you will most definitely be thankful.

Memories Of Daddy

  • Only A Father’s Love My mother would always tell me the story of my birth, the day that I came into this world, the day that I changed her life. The day she will never forget, the day that, as she said, her life changed for the better. She said that as she lay on the table her breathing was labored, her heart was racing, stars were living in her head and then she heard me take my first breath followed by my first cry. Tears running down her face her lip trembling as if she had just been hit in the face with the worst winter storm of ice and snow, and yet she loved me. But according to her the love that she had for me was nothing like that of my father. Growing up I was beyond daddy's little girl, I was daddy's everything. I was his favorite. He was my rock. He was everything that a father was supposed to be. And when my mother got sick he was my hero, and my counselor, and for the first time I saw my father as something he had never been before and that was sad. Watching my mother die from leukemia was by far the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. Watching pieces of my father died with her was heartbreaking.




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