The Picture in the Prayer Book

Among her dad’s possessions
Was a photo, black and white,
Nestled in a tiny prayer book
That for years stayed out of sight.

In the picture was a family –
Soldier father, wife and son.
Who they were remained a question
Which for answers, there were none.

She showed everyone the image –
All the folks her father knew,
But the mystery just deepened;
She had not a single clue.

Then an out of town vacation
And a pair of older eyes
Did provide an explanation
With a megawatt surprise.

For her dad’s last living sibling
Knew the soldier at one glance.
“Why, your dad’s friend Bernie Bauer!”
That’s my husband’s dad – fat chance!

See, the one who found the photo
Is my close and loving friend
So she texted me the picture
And it’s hard to comprehend

That the stranger in the prayer book
(There since 1945)
Is my husband’s father pictured
The last year he was alive.

In his arms, he holds my husband,
Whom he never got to raise
Though the prayers his friend delivered
Somehow worked their magic ways.

For they led that grown-up baby
To his daughter’s friend to wed,
Joined together like the stitches
Of a supernatural thread.

All those years we’ve been connected,
Way before we even met,
Bound by fathers, faith and friendship
And the need to not forget.

I’m a spiritual skeptic
But this really spooked me out
And implanted in my psyche
Just a tiny seed of doubt.