Father
...It's been a while since I've wanted to write this, but only until now do I know how to do so. Sometimes I remember glimpses of things we did together when I was very little. It's almost like a dream, but I know they are real memories. You probably don't even remember and have forgotten them along with many other things.
Unfortunately, what I remember most about you when I was growing up was your absence. Mostly I fill the void with memories that never happened. Those chats at the dinner table that never happened, those words of advice I never got from you but so desperately needed, your jokes I never heard, and of course the wisdom you never shared with me.
I wonder if you ever knew what I felt when I lost my first tooth, or how I would have loved to have your loving arms pick me up as my attempts at learning to ride a bike ended abruptly with my meeting the ground head on time and time again.
I ask myself if you would have been proud of me for finally having learned to read on my own, or learning to ride a horse, or swim. It's sad to know that the man who gave me life knew nothing about me, my dreams, my fears, my successes, and my failures.
Unfortunately, what I remember most about you when I was growing up was your absence. Mostly I fill the void with memories that never happened. Those chats at the dinner table that never happened, those words of advice I never got from you but so desperately needed, your jokes I never heard, and of course the wisdom you never shared with me.
I wonder if you ever knew what I felt when I lost my first tooth, or how I would have loved to have your loving arms pick me up as my attempts at learning to ride a bike ended abruptly with my meeting the ground head on time and time again.
I ask myself if you would have been proud of me for finally having learned to read on my own, or learning to ride a horse, or swim. It's sad to know that the man who gave me life knew nothing about me, my dreams, my fears, my successes, and my failures.
Comments
Unfortunately, what I remember most about you when I was growing up was your absence. Mostly I fill the void with memories that never happened. Those chats at the dinner table that never happened, those words of advice I never got from you but so desperately needed, your jokes I never heard, and of course the wisdom you never shared with me.
I wonder if you ever knew what I felt when I lost my first tooth, or how I would have loved to have your loving arms pick me up as my attempts at learning to ride a bike ended abruptly with my meeting the ground head on time and time again.
I ask myself if you would have been proud of me for finally having learned to read on my own, or learning to ride a horse, or swim. It's sad to know that the man who gave me life knew nothing about me, my dreams, my fears, my successes, and my failures.