Dad’s trees

Dad’s Trees

Trees everywhere,
Gold, red, pink, yellow, brown, green
Leaves, leaves and more leaves.
We talked about trees every day.
On every journey.
In the house.
His trees,
The two outside his window,
McKees trees in the distance.
The day they came to trim his trees.

He loves trees, (I have always loved trees)
I never knew he did too, until this year.
Trees, it’s a constant conversation.
Those 11 days of just me and him.
In the middle of the caring,
In the middle of the frantic trips to the hospital,
As we drove in the car,
As we journeyed together,
We talked about the trees.

The vista opened up on the M2 towards Toome.
Somedays we could see Slieve Gallion.
Others, she was covered with a veil of cloud,
Hiding, sleeping, wet and grey.
Like Dad’s mind.
Still there, but days where it’s hidden and veiled.

On that same vista a thousand trees.
Sparkling in the sun, golden, tarnished bronze.
Dad’s memories, sparkling, golden, tarnished,
Ebbing and flowing, more ebbs than flows now.

This man beside me,
As solid as the trunk of the strongest tree.
‘My person’, before I ever watched Greys.
My rock.
My place to run and hide in the crook of his shoulder.
The first person to truly love me,
Accept me, Adore me.
He has always reflected Father to me.
Dad’s love, a shadow of Fathers.
Dad’s love poured from where he received His.
To grow up known and loved is a measureless gift,
My heart is full of golden leaves,
That will never perish.
Treasures that will endure eternity.
That will not be burned up.
My dad’s love for me is eternal.
My Father’s love will never end.

As his mind disintegrates like the fallen leaves,
His love remains, cast like leaves in gold.

A M Scott 11 Dec 21