Dad

Not a monster, no,

A decent man, but flawed,

Like all of them before.

Not an idol or an icon,

Or a paragon in all things,

As a boy expected, believed.

Your words thrashed, harder,

Often, than your hands,

Or your distance.

You made for a shit husband,

And I fought you for it,

For how you talked to her.

You made for a shit father,

Petty and angry,

Often as you loved.

You made shit decisions,

And we grew up poor and wanting,

So the money you had but hoarded could be lost

In the banker’s game.

I wanted to cut out your guts,

And string them around your neck,

And pull until your face matched

The blue of your eyes, my eyes.

I tried to cut out mine,

With a knife I learned to use,

Doing the only thing you ever seemed proud of,

Fighting and winning.

But I watched the doctors

Pull out your guts,

And your face blue on its own.

And I watched your back break

Under the weight of your traumas

And your long hours and years

And the love you bore us

That you never knew how to show.

I know they beat you and broke you,

Your own parents,

And cast you aside.

You didn’t know how,

And you did your best,

And you did fine.

Your daughters are brave and strong

And smart like bee stings.

One saves lives, the other history.

Your wife is brave and strong

And always saw the good in you,

As I have come to see it,

And cares for your once mighty form

So feeble now.

And you have learned to show the love

You never knew how to give to me,

And how you smile and play

Like squirrels running round and round oaks

With your granddaughter,

I can see how you’ve softened,

And emerged from an opiate fog

The kind of grandfather

Who seems as though

He was the finest father, too.

And as for me,

I learned all my handiness from Uncles,

Big John, and Brian, and that green bastard Sam,

Not from you.

I learned all my love from others,

Too many to name,

Not from you.

I learned how to stand,

Through the necessity of neglect,

Not from you.

But I learned how to take a hit,

From you, Dad,

And that rage you gave me,

Burning like the coalbed of Hell,

Keeps me always rising,

Never on my knees for long.

Nothing in life will ever strike me harder,

And you have made me indomitable.

And I learned honor,

From you, Dad,

What to stand for, and why,

And how I have stood for it

Again, and again, and again,

Because I learned not to fear you,

The first time I hit you back,

And sprawled you into the bathtub,

Pouncing like a puma,

Before you rose back up

And strangled me,

And so I fear nothing.

And I learned how to be a better man,

Because I know what parts of you

I should be,

And burying my pain and hiding my bruises

Taught me how to bury

The parts of you

I will never be.

And I learned from you

The value of service,

To community,

The value of sacrifice,

For family,

And the value of courage,

Against all odds.

You’ve become such a good man

Now that you’re a weak one,

And I am proud of you

The way you should have been proud of me.

The resentment is gone, now,

You’re not the reason I drink,

I’m the only one to blame for that.

There is only love now,

You’re not the reason I drink,

I’m the only one to blame for that.

I take care of you now,

So you can get more years of that love

Than you had of your hate.

More years of tenderness

Than you had hardness.

I love you, Dad,

And I’m glad I never killed you.