Poem from Dad
I wrote the poem below for my two children, Amanda, 17 and Sarah, 13. It was late June, 2010. My hearing loss had just worsened profoundly and permanently. I could no longer discern the sound of either daughter’s voice and I wanted to offer reassurance.
First my world went silent, then my sleeping dreams and now my memories–no sound. Nada.
Now, well over a year later, my memory of sound is also slipping. It’s weird. Lyrics to familiar songs remain firmly memorialized in my brain. I can recite the words. But I can’t hum the tune. I forget the melody. In the same way, I know the girl’s voices. None are more familiar. I just can’t recall the sound of their voices. This is a new phenomenon. See, it’s been a gradual process. First my world went silent, then my sleeping dreams and now my memories–no sound. Nada. This is a very sad development of course.
My recall of those many blessed Kodak moments has never been more vivid. I know the sounds; I just can’t hear them anymore.
It’s strange too because my recall of those many blessed Kodak moments has never been more vivid. When Amanda was a toddler she had the cutest nasal chirrup caused by inflamed tonsils and adenoids. Her adorable voice was high-pitched, kind of squeaky, until she had her tonsils out. I remember distinctly. I can see her saying 4-year old stuff in my minds eye like it was yesterday. But for the life of me, I can’t remember the sound. Of course, Amanda is going to kill me for this little revelation, especially if her high school friends read this!
Dad is a-okay because the joy of fatherhood can never be silenced.
But parents understand. We know each and every facet of our beautiful children: their body warmth in our embrace; the pulse of their heartbeat; their exuberant laughter; their peaceful sleep; and, yes, the nuances of every sound and gesture present and past.
Me too. Oh, yes. I know the sounds; I just can’t hear them anymore– present and past. But Dad is a-okay because the joy of fatherhood can never be silenced. The spirit of this poem is timeless and it’s truth is crystal clear. The orchestra of joy plays on. Do you hear it? Listen heart…listen. Do you hear the voice of Angels? I do. That’s my girls!
By Brian Patrick Jensen
I want you, dearest children, to now know the voices that I keep;
That I hear your words precisely in the peaceful dreams I sleep.
I want you, now, to understand how it resonates in me.
And that I treasure every mention of your sound so beautifully.
I want you to remember I miss nothing that you state.
And that the music of your laughter resides within me loud and great.
I listen every moment to your voice so clear and true.
I hear greatness in your actions by the kindly good you do.
I want to share my insight about the wonder of your sound.
How I hold so firm and crystal clear the words you state profound.
I hear your shouts of joy and love above all worldly noise.
I feel your heart within me beat an orchestra of joys.
I want to say to you right now with audible attention,
That I cling with grateful wonder to your every word and mention
I am expert in your voice’s tone that echoes through my spirit
Listen heart… listen now to your angel-voice, I Hear It!
I want above all things to let you know my joy in hearing.
That it is the heart, not ears, that know there is no silence fearing.
And my triumphant heart now beats so loud and clear today.
Because it hears without a doubt or pause every word you say.