"I'll not have you put me away,"
he said, determined to remain
there in his house where he would stay.
"Why move?" he asks. "What's there to gain?"
"I raised my family in this house,
and this is where I want to be.
Your mom, my dear departed spouse,
would say the same most readily."
These words are what we grown kids hear
in our attempts at reasoning.
With Dad, we've tried to make it clear
the obstacles old age can bring.
"I've fallen twice," he says. "So what?
Each time I got back on my feet
I can't help but feel in my gut
that life elsewhere is incomplete."
But finally we get our dad
to move to a retirement place.
We hoped he wouldn't be too sad,
but make the most of his new space.
In just two weeks, we are surprised.
Dad greets us with a hardy smile.
So little had we realized
he'd been quite busy all the while.
Her name is Anne, a pure delight.
Apparently, they are a pair.
They are together day and night.
In his new home, Dad's happy there!
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Author Notes
Seven years ago at this time, my father passed away. He was most adamant about wanting to stay independent after my mother died. This poem is about his transition into a retirement community where he surprisingly adapted quite quickly, thanks, in part, to a lady named Anne.
He always liked me to read poems I'd written about him. Here's another one for you, Dad.
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