Poem #2 By Teresa

MY FATHER

I was taught growing up that you don't ask why.
So instead of being happy, I shed tears and cried.
Never did I questions answers or justify the lies.
Then one Tuesday, I found out that you died.

I never got the chance to clarify the memory in my mind.
Later then I found out you honestly did try.
I always seen those shiny shoes but my mind was sort of blind.
Then I seen the picture and figured the era and the time.

I always thought a father was just a man who had a tie,
And I never cared with school events, I just sat alone and sighed.
Had I known you were the man I loved and wanted by my side,
I would have given you one more chance instead of sitting with my pride.

Even though I seemed to forget until the day I said good-bye,
And even though she won't admit, I know now that you've died.
For I discovered the photo etched behind my eyes
In your album undisguised.

I wish I could take back all those lies,
And from time to time I still do cry.
Because we missed out and I never tried,
 I only got to see you when your angel did fly.

     This poem is dedicated to my father, and while it was true he had problems, his problems were justified.  As a child, I was always told he never wanted me, and I just didn't question things when I overheard discussions of how my mother didn't know what to do about him, and then I was told to go outside.  I always had a memory though, and because I asked my mom, who it was, and she denied that she even knew, she now holds a lot of guilt because she knows just how far back I actually remember things in my life.

     The last memory I had of my real father was his shiny black shoes.  I remembered standing on a couch in a cloth diaper with no shirt on, and a hat, and looking out the window.  I was very happy that day, but I didn't remember why.  It was storming out, and the rain was streaming down the windows with lightening and thunder, and then I remember getting very excited as I seen those shiny black shoes, and I remember saying, "Daddy!  Daddy!"  And I remembered quite clearly that I loved whoever was wearing them.

     I  just didn't know who it was, because to date, my mother has set me up with about six fathers, and then took them away only to tell me not to call them dad any more.  When I asked my mom who it was, she just looked at me confused and said she had no idea what I was talking about, but after my father died, my aunt gave me his photo album, and there I was, the only picture of me, standing on the couch in a cloth diaper standing in front of a window on the couch.  I was wearing a hat and no shirt, which blew my mind considering I finally had my answer.  It was the real father I was told was never in my life since the moment I was born.

     When I turned the picture over, the back of it said it was my first birthday.  Wow!  And I remembered that, but it's still kind of sad that I went through my whole life until I was 36 years of age thinking he never wanted nothing to do with me.  Had I known that he did, I think life would have been just a little bit differently.  Especially with the way I had come to the conclusion that a father just simply wasn't necessary.