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My Old Man: The Story of a Father’s Love.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 976

Hey Bill,

way back when you were still my Old Man

here on Planet Earth,

never in a million years did I think

I would miss all the crazy craziness of you.

 

All your loud noisy messiness,

your clatter and clumsiness,

your reckless defiance

and convenient deafness.

 

Never did I think I would miss

the way you yelled at the television set,

all the crappy crumbs you left behind

after you finished eating,

the irritating clinking of the spoon

when you stirred your coffee,

the way you stunk up the bathroom

and left a rim of whiskers

and shaving cream in the sink,

your scary false teeth

staring up from the bottom of the glass,

your squished tubes

of Bengay and Brylcreem

in the medicine cabinet

along with a pharmacist’s wet dream

of prescription drugs,

your ranting and raving

about some invisible injustice or another,

your unapologetic farting and belching

whenever and wherever,

and your endless cursing and swearing

at everything and everyone

in English and Finnish

and Finglish.

 

Never did I think there would come a day

when I would miss all that.

 

But I do.

 

I also miss that you loved me.

Completely.

Unconditionally.

Wholeheartedly.

 

And I also miss all the signs

of your fatherly love

that were woven and stitched

and pasted together

sweetly and kindly

and tenderly and generously

throughout all that other stuff.

 

I miss it all.

I miss you Dad.

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