Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door
Recently a dear friend of mine lost his father and it got me thinking.
I came to realize that I've subconsciously blamed my "deadbeat dad" for many
things over the years. I sometimes think that if he had just been there
for me as a child, as a teen and now as a young adult looking to start my own
life, maybe, just maybe I wouldn't be so lost. I want to
have a dad, one that says those three magic words I don't ever remember my
father saying to me. My father was not always gone, there were periods in
which he was in my life but we were never close. I have a father out
there, somewhere. Once in a while my mom receives a child support check
from him for my younger siblings. I've never truly had a dad though.
I know that I’m a prisoner
To all my father held so dear
I know that I’m a hostage
To all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years
My friend got to tell his father how much he loved him. He got to tell his father everything he ever wanted to tell him. He was lucky to have such a wonderful relationship and a real dad. Not any man can be a
dad. "Dad" and "father" are not the same thing. Father can be nothing more than a sperm donor, but it takes work, love, and caring to be a
dad. I have no strong religious background because neither of my parents
really have strong beliefs about much of anything. Some days I miss having
a dad, other days I feel lucky not to have to deal with my father. It's
been almost four years since he's even tried to call us. There is so much
about me he will never know just because he never bothered to ask. There's
so much about him I'll never know because he has never given me the chance to ask. I don't think I've ever had a true conversation with the man my mom called her husband for two separate marriages.
Crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect thought
I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got
During the times when he was visiting us I'd make notes of what
to say to him but never managed to say the things I needed to say. Instead
I just pretended everything was fine and tried to enjoy the pizza and tokens he'd gotten for us to keep us busy during his three hour visit every couple weeks or so. The only conversation we had was over the food and perhaps my
new hair cut or about his new family. I have never told him the way I feel
about him and I'm afraid I never will.
You say you just don’t see it
He says it’s perfect sense
You just can’t get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defense
We always kept the conversation light and about the here and now. Both of us afraid of what might be said if we didn't. I envy my friend and his relationship with his parents. He has always been close to
his parents, closer than I have ever been to anyone. They have
conversations. They make sure to not only say they love each other but to
show their love. They talked of good, they talked of bad. The
important part is they talked.
So we open up a quarrel
Between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future
It’s the bitterness that lasts
Conversation in my family always seems to lead to argument.
We cannot talk of the past without someone bringing something up we begin to
argue about and the conversation ends with everyone feeling anger toward
everyone else. We don't get together with family anymore. We do not
talk of the future, nor the past. Only the present, but the bitterness
remains. The loneliness remains.
So don’t yield to the fortunes
You sometimes see as fate
It may have a new perspective
On a different day
We don't argue much. We just keep our mouths shut and let
the anger build within us. Never revealing our true feelings until it
builds up so much we explode at one another. The future is the present,
nothing ever seems to change. We never seem to learn. We never seem
to change. Nothing ever seems to change, but yet I keep on hoping that
someday things will be different. I keep wishing for a better relationship
with my father and my mother.
And if you don’t give up, and don’t give in
You may just be o.k.
Every time I feel like giving up I turn to my dear friends who
are so strong and have shown me that not all families are like mine. I
keep hoping the phone calls from my mother will end in "I love you" like they
used to. Nowadays she only says that if I say it first, and even then its
rare. My dearest friends have shown me hope, have helped me not to give
up. They tell me I'll be okay as long as I don't give up. Maybe I'll
be okay if I can just quietly keep pretending...
I wasn’t there that morning
When my father passed away
I didn’t get to tell him
All the things I had to say
My friend got to say goodbye and tell his father how much he
loved him and to thank him. I'll never have that. The only reason I
even know my father is alive is because the courts still garnish his wages for
the over one-hundred-ten thousand he owes in back child support. He owes just on
the three children he had with my mother, not to mention how much he may owe on
his other children.
I'll never get the chance to tell my father that I loved him anyway, yet hate him too. He left us. He never bothered to call,
never acknowledges our birthdays, or Christmas, or any other holiday. He
hasn't been part of my or my siblings lives at all for years and when he was he
visisted the minimum amount he could and admits to only coming to see what he
has to give his hard earned money to see.
Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
Oh dear father, why have you done this? Why were you such
an jerk to my mother, to me, to my sister, to my brother? Why did you
abandon us? Why did you treat us so terribly. I know you never physically
hurt us but your words hurt us and your lack of love hurts us. There is an
empty spot reserved in my heart for the daddy I never had and never will have.
The emptiness will never be filled. I'll never even get to tell you
goodbye or perhaps thank you for staying away. Why have you ignored us all
these years? Why haven't you heard our wishes for a dad? I know you
can hear. Why will you never be there to answer my questions I've had bottled up
inside me for years and years? Will I never have the chance to tell you to
your face, "dad", what an jerk you have been? Will death take me first?
Or perhaps take you first? We'll never face the truth about us will we
father of mine?
It’s too late when we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye
Lyrics from "The Living Years"
As performed by Mike and the Mechanics
Used within fair use.