{"id":952,"date":"2016-03-07T11:24:31","date_gmt":"2016-03-07T17:24:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/?p=952"},"modified":"2016-03-07T11:24:31","modified_gmt":"2016-03-07T17:24:31","slug":"my-brother-bobs-little-gift","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/2016\/03\/07\/my-brother-bobs-little-gift\/","title":{"rendered":"My Brother Bob’s Little Gift"},"content":{"rendered":"

My brother Bob brought to me a gift that means so very much,<\/span><\/p>\n

Little does he know one of my fears of family is to lose touch,<\/span><\/p>\n

He brought a book to me with Catholic prayers from a war,<\/span><\/p>\n

To hear his voice and laugh in person meant so much more,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Bob know this please I’ve placed it near my other family treasure,<\/span><\/p>\n

A photograph of Patti and Daddy’s work ID that I keep secure,<\/span><\/p>\n

Each time I see the book I’ll remember the one dad gave me,<\/span><\/p>\n

It disappeared in wars fury but somehow I avoided tragedy,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The gun I fired from a patrol boats nose was the caliber he carried,<\/span><\/p>\n

It was by chance the same weapon, not something that I wanted,<\/span><\/p>\n

Yet I am amazed he carried that 50 caliber machine everywhere,<\/span><\/p>\n

It’s hard to imagine his strength to carry the load he had to bear,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Most don’t survive that task, he simply credits prayer from a book,<\/span><\/p>\n

Many weren’t able to carry the machine, think of the fortitude it took,<\/span><\/p>\n

The weight of the gun plus ammunition says a lot about his strength,<\/span><\/p>\n

To accomplish a most needed goal my father would go to any length,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I thought of him often as bullets echoed and spray came flying by,<\/span><\/p>\n

Praying to gain his strength and determination to fight, not to die,<\/span><\/p>\n

Twice my father presented a prayer book to me much to my surprise,<\/span><\/p>\n

It wasn’t that I thought he didn’t believe but he was secretly folk wise,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

An error of youth because I didn’t pay attention to his daily deeds,<\/span><\/p>\n

He silently endured through illness for love of the children he feeds,<\/span><\/p>\n

Each Sunday he went to Mass and quietly entered the confessional,<\/span><\/p>\n

I wondered what sin is committed by this man that gave me a missal,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The small pocket missal meant more to me than anyone can know,<\/span><\/p>\n

I’d carry it everywhere because it was given me by daddy to show,<\/span><\/p>\n

That he loved me and was truly worried about where I had to go,<\/span><\/p>\n

I kept it with me always along with a photo of the girl I loved so,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

War is hell, a place where the youngest of men lose youth or life,<\/span><\/p>\n

Unless you have been there it is impossible to understand the strife,<\/span><\/p>\n

My second time to that horrible place found me doing awful things,<\/span><\/p>\n

I became so filled with the guilt that doing those awful things brings,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

After a completed mission of which I was the only man to return,<\/span><\/p>\n

I fled as hard as I could for miles until my lungs began to burn,<\/span><\/p>\n

Extraction wouldn’t come unless I made the rendezvous on time,<\/span><\/p>\n

I heard the Huey’s roar as it was lifting to leave another man behind,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But for the keen eye of the pilot and prayers I screamed out load,<\/span><\/p>\n

I would be lost forever and be another fatality on wars bloody road,<\/span><\/p>\n

As they pulled me up I felt my book fall, desperately I tried to jump out,<\/span><\/p>\n

Touching down would jeopardize all, that’s not what the book is about,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I actually cried because of what that tiny book had meant to me,<\/span><\/p>\n

It didn’t matter in war, men often cried out loud for everyone to see,<\/span><\/p>\n

So many things ran through my mind as I finally realized it all,<\/span><\/p>\n

I’d survived what I was not trained for and through prayer I didn’t fall,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I’ve got many secrets I will never reveal regarding things I’ve done,<\/span><\/p>\n

Memories I’ve tried to forget but that day of desperation is not one,<\/span><\/p>\n

Men hold many things dear in war from letters to photos and more,<\/span><\/p>\n

A soldier died holding his teddy bear asking what we’re fighting for,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Those memories returned to me but I want all to know its okay,<\/span><\/p>\n

I like thinking of my pocket prayer book although I lost it that day,<\/span><\/p>\n

Miracles of war occur at times when you don’t expect a thing,<\/span><\/p>\n

People need to be aware of miracles and what they can bring,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I have a trunk that had remained locked for twenty years or more,<\/span><\/p>\n

Daddy gave it to me before I left home to soon go off to war,<\/span><\/p>\n

Twenty years ago I opened my trunk to find my prayer book there,<\/span><\/p>\n

I have no doubt my daddy’s spirit put it there with love and care,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At that time I needed blessings to bring back what illness took,<\/span><\/p>\n

Was it a miracle I could work again, brought by Daddy’s little book?<\/span><\/p>\n

Gratefully I gave thanks for the miracle that prayer and love brought,<\/span><\/p>\n

But from that trunk it disappeared or was it placed where I forgot,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

So Bobby I hope you now understand why the words didn’t come,<\/span><\/p>\n

To be honest if I said a lot, I would have cried in front of everyone,<\/span><\/p>\n

The tiniest thoughtful deeds are sometimes the greatest gift given,<\/span><\/p>\n

A little book of prayer passed on may be another’s ticket to heaven.<\/span><\/p>\n

The end, by Pat<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My brother Bob brought to me a gift that means so very much, Little does he know one of my fears of family is to lose touch, He brought a book to me with Catholic prayers from a war, To hear his voice and laugh in person meant so much more,   Bob know this […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-952","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","category-uncategorized","czr-hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/952","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=952"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/952\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":953,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/952\/revisions\/953"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=952"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=952"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=952"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}