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
happy home,
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
parents separate.
They tell me dads moving to another
state.
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
hidden stash,
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
the way,
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
february '11,
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
silent talks,
Hidden in his closet, I pull out a big
box.
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
to care"
My Daddy wrote "I do"
Copyright © Jason Kirkwood | Year Posted 2012
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