one day

one day we took a bike ride
just the two of us
father and son
I was 37
he was 60.

it was fall
and the trees were brilliant that day
orange red and gold
even the sky was shining.

he wore a bright red t-shirt
we rode along the old canal
all the way to the dam and back
we stopped now and then to take a break
take a picture
or talk a bit
but we didn’t talk much
the talking didn’t come so easy.

at twilight he was riding ahead of me
that red t-shirt on his back
blazing like a banner in the sun
I realized in that moment
that I’d finally had the kind of day
I always wanted to have with him
I also realized
that it was never gonna happen again
and I was right
but what a day that was.

(PDF version)

The one day by Rick Belden, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

October 26th, 2008 in poems | tags: adult survivor, canal, father, father wound, healing, lost man, new book, Poetry, scapegoat's cross

7 Comments Add your own

1. Lisa M. | October 30th, 2008 at 2:54 pm

I really identified with this poem, Rick. I almost could have written it about my dad (if I could write poetry). All during my childhood, I wanted to “earn” my dad’s approval (why did I have to earn it?) and nearly drove myself crazy trying to be the perfect child so that he would approve. I remember clearly bringing home yet another report card of straight A’s and hearing him say “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” It was like he put a pin straight into my balloon and it burst. This type of thing happened over and over again until I stopped telling him anything I was excited about.

The one day I spent with my dad that I remember positively, like the day you wrote about in your poem, was when I was about 20 and had to have surgery. My dad spent the night after my surgery in my hospital room on a cot, so that he could be there if I needed anything. He said he’d never been able to take us kids to doctor’s appointments when we were growing up because he was working, and he wanted to do this for me. It was the closest I ever felt to my dad.
2. Rick | October 31st, 2008 at 9:53 am

Thanks for your comment, Lisa. One day can certainly mean a lot when it’s all you have. My relationship with my father deteriorated back to its previous state not long after that day, but the beauty of the experience was that I wasn’t fooling myself about what it meant as it happened. I knew him well enough to realize that I wasn’t likely to have another day like that with him again, so I soaked up every moment and every aspect with all of the gratitude and awareness I had. The result has been a living memory that stands on its own and has never lost its luster, regardless of what happened in the relationship afterward.
3. katie | March 26th, 2010 at 9:22 am

thank you for your poem and your blog. i’m here by way of the blog carnival against child abuse.

i thought your poem was wonderful. very moving and sad. i appreciate very much that you can write this and share it with the world.

for me, i once thought of a metaphor about my father, that my hopes for the father i always wanted were like an empty pair of unworn shoes lying in my closet, and one day i realized they would never be filled. never be worn. my father would never get help. never be healthy. never be the father we deserved. never be happy. those shoes would always be empty.

a friend told me that they would be filled, just not by him. but bit by bit over the years, both by myself and everyone else who joined my life in a healing way. little by little, i would get the things i always needed that i could never get from my father. feeling safe, guidance, appropriate love, etc.

thank you again for the work you do. i think the world needs more of this~
4. Patricia - Spiritual Journey Of A Lightworker | March 27th, 2010 at 2:09 pm

What a beautiful memory. Thanks for sharing it.
5. Rick | March 29th, 2010 at 7:02 am

Katie and Patricia: Thanks to both of you for taking the time to read and comment.

Katie: Very touching metaphor about the empty shoes, and quite a useful insight from your friend about filling them. It takes courage to realize, as you did, that a father or mother can never be what one needs and deserves, but I think it can also be very liberating. By acknowledging that empty space in our lives, those empty shoes, we begin to open it up to be filled by ourselves and by others in the ways that you so eloquently described.
6. marj aka thriver | March 29th, 2010 at 1:14 pm

At least you had that. And I’m glad for it. As always, Rick, I thank you for sharing your wonderful, poignant poetry.
7. Rick | March 30th, 2010 at 7:50 am

Thank you, marj. I’m always happy to have the opportunity to contribute something to the Carnival.

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