The Final Words
I remember many years ago, when I
was just a lad,
My biggest hero in my life, happened
to be my dad.
I grew up with no siblings, in a
And daily as a child, I'd write a story
and a poem.
I'd discuss how my day went and the
things that I had done,
And put words to my feelings, be it
happy, sad or fun.
I'd keep them in a binder, tucked
underneath my bed,
Well hidden from intruders, near
where I'd rest my head.
Many years later, as a teen, my
They tell me dads moving to another
He decided to leave his family and
work on his career,
Things hadn't been so good at home
for well over a year.
I hold in the tears, run upstairs and
begin to write.
About the terrible news I got, that
late school night.
I rip out my binders, and sit quickly
in my chair.
I write "why do I do this, no one
seems to care".
I grab all my diaries, from my
throw them in a garbage bag and
take them out for trash.
For many years I never took out a
paper and pen,
I promised myself this day I would
never write again.
I visit my dad often, til life gets in
And visits turn to phone calls as we
run outta things to say.
He would say that he loved me, I'd
say I loved him too.
But our conversations remained
small, we were never really true.
I get the dreaded phone call in
God had come to take my dad and
bring him up to heaven.
I go through my dads stuff, and
what defined his life,
Pictures of dead relatives, my family,
his ex wife.
I miss the times we had, even our
Hidden in his closet, I pull out a big
When I move the box, I can't
believe my eyes,
My family runs in the room, when
they hear my sobbing cries.
The writings I had thrown out so
many years before.
Were neatly piled behind the box, on
the closet floor.
I read through the pages, memories
flood my mind,
My life as a child so neatly defined.
I make it to the last page, I find
written in blue, under "No one seems
My Daddy wrote "I do"
Copyright © Jason kirkwood