deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Man I Didn't Know
My father recently died, but I didn't know him.
Well not in the way that I wish I had.
I wish I had known him as a good man.
But I do not hold an opinion for a man that I did not know.
My mother told me everything:
How he didn't want me.
How he was never there for me.
How he tried to hurt me, twice.
How he was always on one side of the bar or the other.
But who was the man that was there when my mother wasn't then?
Now after he's dead my mom says that he cried when I was born.
Why didn't she say that before?
Before I ignored his phone calls and didn't care when he got sick?
Why didn't she tell me all the good things about him when I was growing up.
No I grew up knowing only the bad parts of the man that was my father.
What about the time he threatened some kid for throwing a cinder block at me?
Or what about when he would take my to Six Flags and we'd stay at the water park all day.
He was the one that got me to stop saying sorry for everything, because that was what I was suppose to do with one of my mother's boyfriends.
He wasn't a bad man.
He just didn't understand how to be a dad.
His own father left for another family when he was ten.
His siblings hated him because he told their mother about his father's girlfriend.
He was shunned from that moment on.
He got a girl named Pamela pregnant when he was sixteen.
That was my sister, Leeann.
Then they had my other sister, Kelly.
My dad was working three jobs at the time.
Pamela got sick when she was twenty-one.
She died and left two small children with my father.
He didn't know what to do.
His mother took over taking care of them.
He continued to work three jobs.
That's when he started drinking, he lost the love of his life.
And he didn't know how to be a dad.
His father had left before he could learn anything useful.
He met another girl and got her pregnant twice.
First was my sister, Amanda.
Then my brother, D.J.
There was suppose to be another girl but she died.
And my dad didn't want to tell the mother because he probably did know how to handle that kind of pain.
Nine years later he met my mother.
And they had me.
He didn't believe she was pregnant at first.
And maybe, just maybe it was because he didn't want to have more children in the world.
Maybe he didn't want to let anyone else down.
But he had me, Anne-Marie.
And he married my mother.
He continued to drink and go out to the bar.
Because these were old habits that he couldn't break.
I learned not to touch alcohol from him.
And I learned not to want to smoke.
I hated bars and then men that were in them.
But when I grew up I didn't know that my dad's heart was too broke to ever mend.
I didn't know that he was sad.
I didn't know that he had, had so much loss.
I didn't even know he had become a father at such a young age the first time.
My siblings hated him and they hated me.
I never knew why, now I know it was because he loved me.
He cried when I was born.
He tried to protect me.
And he did go places with me.
As I grew older I got annoyed with his choices and the arguing between mother and father.
But still I loved him.
And I tried to be a good daughter for him.
I guess that's why it hurts to much.
That when I finally gave up on him because he was constantly bothering my mother at the end of his life.
I ignored him too.
I didn't want to see him.
Wasting away in a wheel chair or a hospital bed.
But when I found out that he was dying.
When I knew it was really going to happen.
That's when I had given up on him.
And that's when he died.
I saw him one last time before he died, he was in too much pain to stay awake.
The pain killers kept him asleep.
But he heard me.
I held his hand and stroked his face.
And I cried until I made myself sick.
But now he's dead.
And the man that I knew was the man he was.
I will never know the man he really was.
All of the good things about him no one thought to mention when he was alive.
So my father wasn't a bad man.
And maybe he wasn't a good man.
But he was my dad and I did love him.
And I just hope that he knew that about me.
That he knew that I was the daughter out of all of his kids that loved him.
Because I did, no matter who he was-- I loved him.
Well not in the way that I wish I had.
I wish I had known him as a good man.
But I do not hold an opinion for a man that I did not know.
My mother told me everything:
How he didn't want me.
How he was never there for me.
How he tried to hurt me, twice.
How he was always on one side of the bar or the other.
But who was the man that was there when my mother wasn't then?
Now after he's dead my mom says that he cried when I was born.
Why didn't she say that before?
Before I ignored his phone calls and didn't care when he got sick?
Why didn't she tell me all the good things about him when I was growing up.
No I grew up knowing only the bad parts of the man that was my father.
What about the time he threatened some kid for throwing a cinder block at me?
Or what about when he would take my to Six Flags and we'd stay at the water park all day.
He was the one that got me to stop saying sorry for everything, because that was what I was suppose to do with one of my mother's boyfriends.
He wasn't a bad man.
He just didn't understand how to be a dad.
His own father left for another family when he was ten.
His siblings hated him because he told their mother about his father's girlfriend.
He was shunned from that moment on.
He got a girl named Pamela pregnant when he was sixteen.
That was my sister, Leeann.
Then they had my other sister, Kelly.
My dad was working three jobs at the time.
Pamela got sick when she was twenty-one.
She died and left two small children with my father.
He didn't know what to do.
His mother took over taking care of them.
He continued to work three jobs.
That's when he started drinking, he lost the love of his life.
And he didn't know how to be a dad.
His father had left before he could learn anything useful.
He met another girl and got her pregnant twice.
First was my sister, Amanda.
Then my brother, D.J.
There was suppose to be another girl but she died.
And my dad didn't want to tell the mother because he probably did know how to handle that kind of pain.
Nine years later he met my mother.
And they had me.
He didn't believe she was pregnant at first.
And maybe, just maybe it was because he didn't want to have more children in the world.
Maybe he didn't want to let anyone else down.
But he had me, Anne-Marie.
And he married my mother.
He continued to drink and go out to the bar.
Because these were old habits that he couldn't break.
I learned not to touch alcohol from him.
And I learned not to want to smoke.
I hated bars and then men that were in them.
But when I grew up I didn't know that my dad's heart was too broke to ever mend.
I didn't know that he was sad.
I didn't know that he had, had so much loss.
I didn't even know he had become a father at such a young age the first time.
My siblings hated him and they hated me.
I never knew why, now I know it was because he loved me.
He cried when I was born.
He tried to protect me.
And he did go places with me.
As I grew older I got annoyed with his choices and the arguing between mother and father.
But still I loved him.
And I tried to be a good daughter for him.
I guess that's why it hurts to much.
That when I finally gave up on him because he was constantly bothering my mother at the end of his life.
I ignored him too.
I didn't want to see him.
Wasting away in a wheel chair or a hospital bed.
But when I found out that he was dying.
When I knew it was really going to happen.
That's when I had given up on him.
And that's when he died.
I saw him one last time before he died, he was in too much pain to stay awake.
The pain killers kept him asleep.
But he heard me.
I held his hand and stroked his face.
And I cried until I made myself sick.
But now he's dead.
And the man that I knew was the man he was.
I will never know the man he really was.
All of the good things about him no one thought to mention when he was alive.
So my father wasn't a bad man.
And maybe he wasn't a good man.
But he was my dad and I did love him.
And I just hope that he knew that about me.
That he knew that I was the daughter out of all of his kids that loved him.
Because I did, no matter who he was-- I loved him.
Published 23rd Sep 2012
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26th Sep 2012 6:58am
This is powerful raw and cathartic I really like the honesty
It speaks to anyone who has fractured relationships
A brave piece thanks for revealing yourself
It speaks to anyone who has fractured relationships
A brave piece thanks for revealing yourself
