Old Boxes

Years have come and gone. I have forgotten who I am. Every once a photo of you reminds me. Lucky I should be, only to feel a undaunted hurt. It’s a imprint on my walls or my bookshelf. As I glance at you, black and white fading away. Happy you seen, are you somewhere where the angels can hear. Do you ever wonder how much I miss you? I keep finding stuff that belongs to you, telling me about a unfinished past I will never hear. Never realizing you were more than just a dad. A boy, a man. Old boxes of lost loves and photos no one knows. It’s as if I’m losing my memory. A mixture of a dad I knew to a stranger before who became you. Time goes on, and the little girl grows ups, starts a family. She tells stories of a father she barely knew. Losing you toke a piece of me, that never grows back. Now finding this untold past makes me feel as everything was nothing. I know nothing now, just time flying by. I am left with disappointment of pushing you away. Realizing our mistakes.