Not hockey related,....but more important.

Daddy's Poem:

Her hair was up in a pony tail,
Her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.

But her mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.

But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees
A dad who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seats

One by one the teacher called
A student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
A man who wasn't there.

'Where's her daddy at?'
She heard a boy call out.
'She probably doesn't have one,'
Another student dared to shout.

And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
'Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day.'

The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.
And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.

'My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.

And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.

He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.

We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him.
I'm not standing here alone.

'Cause my daddy's al ways with me,
Even though we are apart
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart'

With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favorite dress.
And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.

For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.

'I love my daddy very much,
he's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.

You see he is a Canadian soldier
And died just this past year
When a roadside bomb hit his convoy
And taught us all to fear.
But sometimes when I close my eyes,
it's like he never went away.'
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.

And to her mothers amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.

'I know you're with me Daddy,'
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.

Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed rose.

And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining star.
And given the gift of believing,
That heaven is never too far.


Lest we forget.

I've seen this poem before, and it always puts a lump in my throat.

Thanks.

It says it all, doesn't it?
Thank you hawkeyfann



Wayjoy

Take the time to check this one out. It sent shivers down my spine;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ky2WKqmrnnI



Wayjoy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8gRx8tWJmI

Wayjoy

Mona Gould, a Canadian poet, was still a child when her brother left to fight in the Second World War. In a poem, she remembered him:

This was my brother
At Dieppe.
Quietly a hero
Who gave his life
Like a gift.
Withholding nothing.
His youth ... his love ...
His enjoyment of being alive ...
His future, like a book
With half the pages still uncut -

This was my brother
At Dieppe ...
The one who built me a doll house
When I was seven,
Complete to the last small picture frame,
Nothing forgotten.
He was awfully good at fixing things,
At stepping into the breach when he was needed.
That's what he did at Dieppe.

He was needed.

And even death must have been a little ashamed
At his eagerness.

Nellie McClung, in her memoirs:

In my diary I wrote that day, Dec. 4th, 1915: This morning we said good-bye to our dear son Jack, at the CNR station where snow lay fresh and white on the roofs and on the streets, white and soft, and pure as a young heart.

When we came home, I felt strangely tired and old, though I am only forty-two. But I know that my youth has departed from me. It has gone with Jack, our beloved, our first born, the pride of our hearts. Strange fate, surely, for a boy who has never had a gun in his hands, whose ways are gentle, and full of peace; who loves people, pities their sorrows and would gladly help them to solve problems.

What have I done to you, in letting you go into this inferno of war? And how could I hold you back without breaking your heart?

In October, 1917, a young Canadian soldier named Talbot Papineau wrote to his mother about his experience in the trenches and his love and concern for her and his family.

October 29, 1917

Dearest Mother,

After all, I have been able to write to you again before going over. We have been fortunate so far and all things are cheerful. I have even shaved this morning in a little dirty water. I was delighted last night to get two letters from you, and a box of candy which I have actually carried with me and have enjoyed. It was a cold night and I slept only about one hour. Also a noisy night, I can assure you, and the earth full of vibrations.

I hope by the same mail you receive another letter from me to say all is successfully over. But of course it may be difficult or impossible to write for a few days, so don't worry.

There seems so little to say when if only I knew what was to happen I might want to say so much. These would be poor letters to have as last ones but you must know with what a world of love they are written. Always remember that I could not love thee so well, or you love me, did I not love honour more. You have given me courage and strength to go very happily and cheerfully into the good fight. Love to all and a big hug for thee, my dear brave little mother.

Talbot...



Nov. 5, 1917
To Mrs. L.J. Papineau.
Dear Madam:

In confirmation of my telegram to you of yesterday's date I regret exceedingly to inform you that an official report has been received to the effect that Capt. T.M. Papineau was killed in action on October 30, 1917

Yours truly,
J.M. Knowles, Lieutenant

Brilliant all 3; thanks What-itis!