My Father was a complicated man.
His praise was rare, but when received, a light
More brilliant than the full moon out last night
When I returned from Florida. I can
Not say that he would never yell or shout;
He was not like the “TV Dads” admired
For their patience. He was witty, wired;
Sharp on any subject asked about.
He read three papers every night and I
Would lie awake when I was five or six
To hear him turn the pages. That would fix
My anxiousness. The memory makes me cry,
As does the sight of perfect gardens. Glad
To be reminded of you daily, Dad.
My Father passed away on July 3, 2017. I was more privileged than saddened to be with him that day. Here is a link to his obituary: http://obits.dignitymemorial.com/dignity-memorial/obituary.aspx?n=Thomas-Fricke&lc=4818&pid=185991256&mid=7471475
And here is a photo of my siblings and me with our Mother. I like to believe he heard the laughter and conversation around the table as family arrived to honor his memory.