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.
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