To My First Child, Krista.....A Poem from Dad

MY FIRST CHILD, KRISTA

What I always wanted to tell you but failed to try:

(this was the piece that Jeff wrote and read for Krista at her Memorial Service)

It will forever be plain to me,

 That we loved you first, you see.

Yes, you our First to brave the new world,

Your entrance in dramatic style in New York City, the Great White Way,

Your First home for a while.

First to make us laugh and make us cry.

First to earn your badge of courage,

A band aid on a wounded knee.

First to see Doctor Sandberg for shots in the arm,

You winced and grimaced and bravely stood your ground…

No harm!

First to climb the hill and down the other side again,

Run in the field and play in the glen.

First to be carried on daddy’s shoulders on high,

First to climb a tree, glide on a swing and kick the sky.

And in each Spring in your garden green,

Strip the peapods and berries clean.

And when questioned: Who? What? When? Where and Why?

You merely sigh and say,

“Not I”!

First to watch for fireflies in the night air of July,

First to chase Snipes, Malikas and other fairy tales in the wood,

First to toast summer marshmallows over campfire wood… mmmm.

How good!

First to sit in pride, your smile wide on your first pony ride,

To walk and play in the new mown hay.

First to be churched, baptized and communed…

Ribbons festooned in your light blond hair,

And the long white gown to the ground you’d wear.

First to act out in the school and Christmas plays,

First to dial 911 for mommy’s sake and save the day.

First to take to the father/daughter dance and win the handsome prize,

For, of course, you were always first in your daddy’s eyes.

First to learn to drive, in a way…

Get licensed and grounded on the very same day!

First to graduate from Senior High,

Leave home for college and parts unknown,

To ply your skills on Capitol Hill.

First to hold a public seat,

(How neat!)

To stand for justice and wave the flag so free,

For those who couldn’t stand and be.

That was awesome, your greatest feat,

Strike up the band!

And first to sit high above the Fenway Green,

The brand new press box of the newly sold Boston Red Sox.

Truly you’ve had many firsts,

My Sweet,

Which no one can deny.

But now this first can only make me cry,

To leave so soon with barely a good-bye.

So this day, I proclaim in God’s name:

We thank you sweet angels above,

For Krista was ours First to love.

Make way, today, step aside,

Her grand entrance to abide.

Our dear Krista is yours to love.

Now that she’s on heaven’s side!