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i just went looking for a poem i wrote years ago about my father. couldn't find it though! what i did find was a message my father took for me, telling me to call a friend back. that message is from 1992, written in my father's hand writing. next week marks the first anniversary of my father's passing and coming upon his hand writing opens the flood gates of memory. the same experience happened when i first came upon my mother's hand writing after she had passed away, five years ago now. i know that the sense of smell is the most poignant, and to revisit old photographs brings back memories. but somehow to look back on the hand writing of a loved one who's gone seems even more riveting. especially since most thoughts, messages & recipes (as was the case of my memory of my mother) nowadays are typed on a screen! wishing you warmth with written words. http://michellecfecit.wordpress.com/

i found the poem. it may come across as disrespectful but my father & i did love each other. it was written around the time i graduated from a fine arts program at uni. i was at a crossroads, an impasse i guess, 'cause i wasn't sure where to go next. my father always supported my decision to study in that field even though he often didn't understand my art! i have always been a melancholic pensive sort which contrasted to his always having been so full of energy & get-up-and-go. my dad retired as a director of education, but his passion was gardening. guess gardening was his artform! the poem was written in reaction to a comment he once made which went something like this: 'come on mitch get out there & find it & put a smile on your face'! i wrote the poem around the time of 'international woman's day' in 1992 so it's also in honour of women around the world who have to fight on a daily basis for their basic human rights. He asks me to smile. I am dying But I smile for you Father. This smile More colourful, Beautiful than the flowers He plants in his perpetual garden. This smile Shorter than the blades of the LawnBoy That cuts his lawn grass. My smile More dead than the pork chops He burns on the barbeque at The end Of the lawn. He Ask Me Smile But I am dead. I smile for you Father.

Michelle, Thank you for sharing your stories (both of the above posts). I agree with you about writing and even about the memories it invokes when we see a person's handwriting years later, especially after they are gone. I have lots of things left from my mom's handwriting -- she had beautiful handwriting and I like coming across her handwriting -- doesn't happen much at all these days, in fact I'd have to go looking for something in order to read it, but I'm glad to still have them. I like to "write" letters, cards, etc., and miss the art of that. I tend to not write so much any more when I'm sending a letter or card, simply because my typing is far faster than my handwriting, but every so often, I enjoy taking the time to sit and write a letter or card. I also like to "write" poetry (similar to yours above) -- I haven't done it in a long time, but I do find it very therapeutic in many ways to be able to write. I've often said that if I were a poet or songwriter, all of my material would be sad because that is usually the one time whenI have the urge to write and believe it or not, I don't think I can write happy stuff -- not sure why. Thanks again for sharing. Kind regards to you,

you're welcome pat i think it's easier to write melancholic, sad verses than it is to write happy ones. the mood tends & lends itself to the expression! my parents both had beautiful penmanship as well. it was the era i think. students were trained to it, mom's was very feminine & dad's masculine. mom used to say: 'my handwriting is so small & faint that it's as though i'm writing in a whisper!' my father was originally left handed & was forced to learn to write with his right. was given the whip otherwise! i'm just starting on our Christmas cards & decided to write the greeting by hand, could have had it printed on the postcards i designed. thought it would be more personal to actually write them out & not only their addresses! but my handwriting is not the curly cursive type, just block letters! but to see the handwriting of someone who is or who has been close seems to evoke the whole way they carried themselves & their mannerisms. good to hear from you, michelle http://michellecfecit.wordpress.com/