An Online Journal for Women by Women
An Online Journal for Women by Women
my aba at home

Reflections of Aba, My Father

I wrote these poems in the year following the death of my beloved father, Eugene Blum, Yoel Ben Basia. May he Rest In Peace. 

A rhyme for aba

where are you where are you 
where have you been
to heaven to heaven to visit the queen?
what did you, 
what did you find,  
find there. 
something new  
to wear, 
to wear?

a new kind of body spic and span soul
can you see angels does Hashem bowl
thunder and lightning took you away
i watched your last breath  
July 5, 2009, 4:45pm, 
Sunday. 

will you still visit your smell i do miss
can you send it my way a hug and a kiss
phone calls and dreams do you watch 
are you there? 
I’m hoping 
and praying 
I’ll 
see 
you
somewhere.

over the rainbow
or under the sea 
I’ll be waiting 
forever
whenever 
you’re
.free

Unveiling

My aba, my father you’ve gone
so far away, you’ve left
this stone, this marker in your place
your grave remains, we are bereft

You told me how you missed your Mom
and Dad throughout the years
and now I know just how you felt
I know from all my tears

You lived your life
fulfilled your purpose
moved to that other side
one year has passed
so time cries out
still emptiness and death abide

My grief it fills the oceans
like a leaf it sails along
somehow carrying your spirit,
your heart, your soul, your song

I grasp it…, to hold it,
I reach, and deep inside
I find you, I remember
in me you come alive

When my dad passed on July 5, 2009 at 4:45 PM after eight years of medical challenges I was thrust into a timeless spiritual dimension. Perhaps it was my way to stay connected to him in the world of souls, to hold on as long as possible. 

My dad was my world for the eight years that my mom and I took care of him. We advocated on his behalf as he healed and relapsed again and again. 

As the candle that lasts throughout shiva slowly disappeared I couldn’t have been more sad, his light his soul was moving further from my grasp.

Today, 11 years later as my dad‘s yartzeit is near I read these poems and find them to be such a gift. From a distance I think about him with grief anew, tears that have brought me to a bittersweet acceptance that he is no longer here. And a deepening gratitude, that my dad truly does live on in me, and always will.

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