Re-blogged with permission from a friend Ken Clasper’s blog, Living well with Lewy Body Dementia.

Ken told me a little about where it came from:

Please feel free to use this, because it came from my Mother. It has always made me think, when I read it. … my son and daughter have read it and think its wonderful. I think she got it from her father, who was good at this sort of think as was mum in her own quiet way. He started doing this while recuperating in a British hospital during the first world war.He came home with shrapnel injuries in one leg, gained in the Somme, and felt guilty when he returned because all of his friends had been gased by the Germans. He never really got over that, and would never talk to me about it, but we would walk for miles over the Northern fells when I was young and have a wonderful time together. I was left his diaries when he died. A lovely giant of a man, and like mum someone I miss dearly. But I think that this sort of thing helped him in some way.

To any Daddy

There are little eyes upon you and they’re watching night and day,

There are little ears that quickly take in everything you say,

There are little hands all eager to do everything you do,

And a little boy who’s dreaming, of the day he’ll be like you

You’re the little fellow’s idol; you’re the wisest of the wise,

In his mind about you, no suspicions ever arise

He believes in you devoutly – holds that all you say and do

He will say and do in your way, when he’s grown up just like you

There’s a wide eyed little fellow, who believes you’re always right

And his ears are always open and he watches day and night,

You are setting an example every day in all you do

For the little boy whose waiting, to grow up to be like you.

When I read the poem, and again when I read the information about where the poem came from and about his father, I had tears in my eyes. How amazing to be left diaries from your father. I guess in a way, blogging is leaving diaries for our children and grandchildren, but in a way that means they can read them and talk about what is in them, with you, before you die. It also gives us the wonderful gift of new friendships like mine with Ken who I’ve never met, in the same way as having Penpals! Thank you Ken, and thanks to your mother and especially your dear departed father for writing it.