A poem for Dad. Dad was born Monday 11th of May 1931, The youngest of the family, the second son, Mother and Father, Charlie, and Tilly, Brother Cecil and Beloved sister Peggy, From school to the army and then a car mechanic he became, Working for years at Pulborough motors, and then for himself on Gay street lane. He could fix anything on a car, there was nothing he couldn't do, He was respected by his clients as their cars were returned as good as new.   Memories of dad when I was a boy, Fishing trips, holidays, a favorite toy. Family holidays to Cornwall, Devon and Wales, The weather may not have always been good, pouring rain and howling gales, We were never disheartened, this didn’t bother us, Being together was simply enough, Confined in our caravan when it was so windy and wet, Passing time, playing Monopoly and cards, using buttons as bets. These are memories which we will always treasure, These are the memories in which lives are measured.   Dad was always there for mum, myself and brother Mark, He was a family man, kind, willing, a clever man, a real bright spark. Dad taught me how to ride a bike, Roller skate and fish for Pike, With his own bare hands, he built us a boat, We'd go fishing together, up the river Arun we'd float. At seventeen he got me through my driving test, It was first time, as a teacher he was simply the best.   Sadder times when my mother was taken, Dad was devastated, inconsolable and completely shaken. Then later upon meeting Barbara, a new relationship was started, And to this day they have been together and only in sickness parted, We must think of Barbara and her family too, Together, we are strong and can see this parting through.   The reason I am standing here today, is because I really care, I always loved my father, it is a love we will always share, He taught me many things in life, The most important, to always laugh and cherish one’s wife. I now have children of my own, And I pray, I can pass onto them, the seeds I was sown. Being there with dad on Saturday 9th June, When he took his final breath, for us it was far too soon. A last squeeze of his hand, a kiss on the brow, Let us not forget his time was then, his time is now. The end.