Too Little, Too Late

I often think about my life as a lonely dad And wonder where I’d be if my wife had stayed. I can’t help but remember all the chances I had, But lost because of all the women with whom I played. I think back to all the times I left in a hurry, Trying to beat the morning rush and get to work on time. I would stay late after work and my wife would worry, But the corporate ladder was what I was trying to climb. I wish that I had tried harder to help raise my kid, But I wanted so much to work my way to the top. I wanted to spend time with my boy, but I never did. The long hours paid well and I just couldn’t stop. My son resented me for never being around, Especially when it came to the holidays. Whenever I WAS there, the words just couldn’t be found. Our communication became cards and gifts on birthdays. The few times we’d talk would always end up in a fight, And we would say some horrible things to each other. I wasn’t willing to admit that what he said was right When he brought up anything to do with his mother. Eventually, he got into things he shouldn’t do, And started down a path that had yet to be paved. I feel so guilty for never saying, “I love you,” But it’s too little, too late, as I stand over his grave.