EVERY POEM I WRITE I DEDICATE TO JOHN DAVID BUCKLEY, MY DAD, MY FATHER.
He was once alive and lived in this world, on this planet.
The world knew nothing of him, much less about him.
Still, he lived and was alive.
The world be damned that it ignored this honest and most loving man.
For most of my dad's life he lived and suffered with an illness, a mental illness.
The world did not understand, people did not understand.
Including me, his first born son.
Instead of honour, I brought shame and disgrace.
I was a fool, even more so, the world was a fool.
My father had a heart bigger than this world and even bigger than the universe.
Few got to see it, I did, at some point in our lives.
My father loved me.
My father loved everyone.
He was a friend, he was a brother, he was an uncle, he is a father, he is a grandfather.
My father taught me one thing.
That love is forgiving and that same love is for giving.
My dad showed as much love for others as he could and in doing so showed just how much love he had for his God, my God.
Because of him.
Because he lived, and died, I live.
His only first born son.
The illness that ate away at my dad was called Major Depressive Disorder.
In a way it killed him.
My father is now in eternity, he lives in Heaven with His Lord, my Lord.
Someday we will be reunited, father and son, together again.
I want you to know one thing, and please remember this; my father was NOT his illness.
Not by a far shot.
He was a family man.
He was a man of God.
JOHN DAVID BUCKLEY--08/06/1940-28/10/2008