GREEN EYES
Repost from September of 2011.
They were green eyes… I realized with time his eyes really did most of the talking for him during his lifetime. It wasn’t as much the look or expression on his face as it was the focus or emotion in his eyes. They could portray any sense of emotion he had.
They were his mom’s eyes. His dad was half Native American, or at least that’s what he told everyone. His dad looked Indian. In fact, to say he looked full blood would be an exaggeration.
His eyes were strong first. They showed intent in everything he did, but they also carried in them peace and joy. Long after I first began to understand the strength in those eyes, I would slowly, with time, realize in those green eyes were comfort.
As I peered out over my guard, which was identical to his due to his teaching, I saw joy. Those green eyes told me he was having fun. I also saw intent, but alas my age, speed, skill, strength, and quickness would be a bit too much for the man behind those haunting green eyes…
As we moved, sidestepped quickly, carefully positioned the members of our bodies to best the other, I saw something else in those green eyes; I saw extreme joy mixed with intensity… I didn’t see a shred of doubt…
The confidence in his green eyes caught me a bit off-guard. The man behind them was underestimating the skill behind mine. The time had come; I knew I was physically superior. I had longer, quicker and stronger arms.
It was all in fun, we weren’t going to throw full punches, just a stinging pulled slap in order to prove who would be the best for that day.
The confidence in his eyes was backed up by, not the grin on his face, but the full blown smile. I was smiling too. His boxing career in the Air Force and Elks Lodges for extra money when his kids were babies was twenty-five years in his rear view mirror. Those were days before I existed.
What those green eyes couldn’t see was my skill that had been developed. “You have any idea how fast I am?” I asked as we moved around each other having already started sparring.
“I bet you’re really fast,” he said almost laughing.
Then he said something like, “Why don’t you show me some of that speed,” while he smiled. Right before he could get the last syllable out I launched a lightning left jab to “slap” his right cheek… It never got there…
He parried my jab with his right hand and landed two straight jabs to the side of my face that I thought was well protected. It went on for another 20 or 30 seconds as the kind green eyes pummeled me gently.
By that time his eyes were pouring emotion. He laughed his perfect laugh. I laughed too… He grabbed and hugged me. “Son – your faster than I thought you were!” He laughed, but sincere in his assessment.
His green eyes were proud, not of himself, he didn’t matter to himself. He was proud of me for really nothing, just for belonging to him.
I was proud for who he was as a man. His eyes hid no intention other than the truth of God he lived his life by. And that could be clearly seen in his green eyes.
As time goes on and God reveals to and in me who I am in this world, it changes me from not only the inside but the outside as well.
On a rare occasion, and the light and angle are just right, as I glance in the mirror – I can see them, faintly. Deep inside I spot them; my father’s eyes. I remember his green eyes looking back at me, reminding me of the man I can still be.
When God took my dad home He took a piece of my heart with them. Through the sorrow I’ve learned it was His way of preparing me for when it’s my turn to be taken home.
I’m left with the memory and the love I will always carry with me… captured in those green eyes…
Hazel Moon Trust
Sunday, January 20, 2019 @ 7:56 pm
My Dad’s mom was American Indian, and her eyes were sparkling black. My Dad had those eyes, and passed them to my brother, but my sister and I inherited our mother’s blue eyes. Your dad’s green eyes, portrayed quite a picture as he delighted in your company, and also in besting you. I know he was proud of you and your taking after him in being a good husband and dad and provider for your family.
When I was in high school, the neighbor boy across the street, had one blue eye and one brown eye. He was a sweetie and he would hold still so we could look into his eyes and say wow. We had a lot of teen age kids in our immediate neighborhood and we had lots of fun, playing kick the can, or later in the evening listening to music and playing cards.
Diane Ronzino
Monday, January 21, 2019 @ 1:59 am
Floyd, this was a beautiful tribute to your dad. The eyes are the window of the soul and you really “saw” your dad. Most people cannot say that. This was beautiful. As I was reading, I thought, “I bet Floyd has his dad’s eyes too.” Yep. I’m sure you do, my friend. I’m sure you do.
bill (cycleguy)
Monday, January 21, 2019 @ 4:51 am
If envy is allowed, I envy you. You can talk about your father as a friend. As one to have fun with. I was playing basketball and challenged dad to a game of horse. I was beating him and accidentally hit him in the chest. He roared…not with laughter but with anger. I never played against him again. This was a good story Floyd. I thought for sure you were going to talk about jealousy but you threw me a curve. I’m guessing if you are like your father, you would be one I’d love to spend time with.
Pam
Monday, January 21, 2019 @ 6:11 am
The eyes tell so much about a person, without them even realizing it. People often tell me I look just like my mom, green eyes and all.
I have always loved Amy Grant’s song, “Her Father’s Eyes”, and pray that when others look at me they not only see my mom, they see my heavenly Father’s eyes.
Martha J Orlando
Monday, January 21, 2019 @ 6:25 am
What joyful memories you have of your Dad, Floyd. You have so brightened my day by sharing these here. Funny about those green eyes – they feature prominently in my books in particular characters. That eye color has always fascinated me.
Blessings!
Lisa notes
Monday, January 21, 2019 @ 11:26 am
This post makes me miss my own dad, Floyd. My dad had steely blue eyes. Only one out of all the grandchildren got his blue eyes, my Morgan. Everyone else is brown. I’m thankful we were both blessed with good, godly men as fathers.
Dikkon Eberhart
Monday, January 21, 2019 @ 12:56 pm
Very nice, Floyd! Over the years, I’ve read several praises for your father that come from your pen, and I am happy he left you as the man you are. May you be blessed in your own fatherhood!
Dolly at Soulstops
Monday, January 21, 2019 @ 1:43 pm
Floyd,
What a touching portrait of your relationship with your father and who your father was as a man and as a father. What a gift 🙂 Thank you.
Cheryl
Monday, January 21, 2019 @ 9:56 pm
Oh, Floyd! This was such a moving post! I can sense that, along with your Dad’s eyes, his spirit also shines through in you. I surely understand how much it hurts to miss a Daddy like that. Sometimes, I can’t believe mine has been gone for so long, and it is so unbearable to think I will never see him again on this side of eternity. But, one day, we will all be reunited in a place where there will be no more sad good-byes. Thank you for sharing your Dad with us, and I can only imagine how proudly he looks down upon you from Heaven. God bless you, brother.
Betty J Draper
Thursday, January 24, 2019 @ 10:55 pm
I felt like I was staring into those green eyes. My dad had green eyes but I never seen joy or anything even close to that in them. I love that my daughter has his green eyes though. Your post made me wish I had had a Dad such as yours, one I could write about with pleasure. This was beautifully written Floyd and from the comments everyone was moved. I am very grateful that in heaven when I see my Dad those green eyes will be filled with joy. I think I told you my husband led me Dad to the Lord the night before he died. Like the thief on the cross, Dad stepped into joy unspeakable.
A side note, I have not seen a comment from you in quite a while. Actually not just from you but a couple of others who usually comment. I did have one blog friend send me an email saying my site would not let her comment since she had changed to another blog carrier. Just wondering.
Floyd
Friday, January 25, 2019 @ 9:05 am
Yes. I’ve sent you several emails letting you know that I’m locked out of your comment box. Something is a miss!