His laughter would ring across the room
Hi radiant smile was warm and genuine
He loved to have people over
To him, friends and family meant a lot

How would hold my hand in his and would say
You have beautiful hands Lida
And he would do this often
Just to remind me from time to time

Holding hands was our thing
When I was little
I would hold his index finger when we walked
His soft warm flesh soothing and reassuring in mine

When at the dentist I would hold his hand too
So I could squeeze it when it hurt
A strategy he taught me and I later used
When giving birth to each child
Only it was Albert’s hand that I held this time

He’d always tell me to pay more attention
To my penmanship
But writing super neatly is not my thing
I hope that now he doesn’t mind

His signature reflected his flamboyant spirit
It’s still one of my favorites
It was more of sign than a signature
Not many letters to be found

And when He came to me in a dream
He held my hand like old times
His soft warm hands so comforting

I asked him if he would be with me
Through the trials of life
He nodded …
And
That’s all I needed
He is with me even though he’s not…

Father’s day, 2014