I wrote most of this when I was 14 for a school project. I couldn't bare to include all of the details of my relationship with my father back in high school, so I left it out. Four years later, I went back and added the rest in it, details and all. I have not nor do I wish to see my father in over six years. He doesn't call, doesn't write, doesn't make any effort. He is not a part of my life, and I would like to dedicate this to my wonderful stepdad, who will be walking me down the aisle on my special day. Dan, I love you always.

You, My Father

I remember the day.
It’s so clear in my mind.
I wouldn’t have come home,
if I knew what I’d find.
You said, “Mom told me to leave.
She doesn’t want me around.”
Our tears were both shed,
at the sadness we found.
You wanted my mother
to be the bad guy.
Your little story
was all one big lie.
You wanted to go,
and you know it was true,
You also didn’t want
the blame put on you.
To get all my sympathy,
you made up that tale.
What bothers me most
is that your plan didn’t fail.
I felt so bad
that you had to go.
I was mad at my mother,
more than you know.
I could only remember
the good times we had.
I couldn’t accept it.
It all made me so sad.
I couldn’t imagine
life without you.
Without a father,
what would I do?
On visitations, you pretended
like I wasn’t there.
You favored my sister.
It was so unfair.
Because I didn’t answer
the questions you shot,
the silent treatment
was what I got.
Just a scared little girl,
twelve years of age,
seeking your protection,
but drowning in your rage.
The physical pain
inflicted by you
was too much to handle,
too much to go through.
I began to see
what you put my mom through.
It became so obvious.
The bad guy was you.
You made my life miserable
each time that I went.
But at the trial you acted
like you were so innocent.
You played it up
for the judge and the jury.
You didn’t tell the truth.
It filled me with fury.
The tables have turned,
and I see how you work.
I realized then,
that you act like a jerk.
Once the trial was over,
and the visitations were through,
you still insisted
we depended on you.
You seemed to be
denying the fact,
but somehow our lives
managed to stay intact.
But now the good times
are forgotten, it seems.
The horrifying memory
of visitation still screams.
I cannot think beyond
that first visitation day.
Those painful times
are blocking my way.
You left me with wounds
on my body and heart.
Leaving me a gift
I will never part.
These scars I shall carry
for the rest of my days,
affecting my attitudes,
affecting my ways.
You’ve missed so much
in the last bunch of years.
Sometimes it begins
to bring me to tears.
But then I realize,
you just didn’t care.
It angers me that
my life we couldn’t share.
You missed my confirmation,
eighth grade graduation too.
You missed all my sports games.
There’s been more than a few.
It’s so disappointing to see
how far down the list can go.
You’ve missed so many things,
you probably don’t even know.
You turned me away
when I wanted to change my name.
You acted as if
it was all one big game.
Well, it wasn’t, you know,
it meant a lot to me.
I guess that it’s something
you’ll never be able to see.
I’m partially over you,
since I’ve got a new father.
I know it’s too much trouble for you,
because I know you don’t bother.
He comes to my games,
this new father of mine.
He tells me when I do well.
He lets me know when I shine.
He does all of the things,
you never used to do.
I know he cares,
but I don’t know for you.
My stepfather is
the real hero here.
He saved me from you.
He brought me out of my fear.
He comforted me
like a real father should.
What did you ever do
that makes you so good?
Graduation day
and I was in my white gown.
The tears on my face
are streaming down.
He hugged me with eyes
as wet as the sea,
quite possibly as proud
as a father can be.
He considers me his own now
and his eyes are brimmed with tears.
In his mind he flashes back
through all my high school years.
He sees a timid freshman,
scared of her first day.
He knows my love of bowling
and traveled to watch me play.
He can picture me driving
and the day I wrecked the car.
No matter what happens,
he considers me HIS little star.
He’s seen all of the boyfriends
on that scary first date,
left to sit quietly at home,
to worry, watch, and wait.
When junior prom came,
and I attended the dance,
he told me I was beautiful
at the first given chance.
Senior year arrived;
I played football-- Powder Puff,
he saw me in my jersey
looking mean and tough.
In the years I proudly sported
the orange and the black,
he continually made sure
I was on the right track.
Offering fatherly advice
whenever he could,
knowing you’d ran off
and left me for good.
He saw me the day
I was off to U of I,
hugging me strongly,
telling me not to cry.
But you didn’t even pass
through my mind that day
because you aren’t a part of my life
at all in any way.
It is you who’s being cheated
because in the blink of an eye,
I will be graduating
from the U of I.
But now it’s all over,
and you have lost the game.
You’ll never feel the pride
as they call aloud my name.
I’ll walk across the platform
and look into the crowd
to see my loving mother
and step-father standing proud.
He seems to be a constant,
unlike anything I can say for you.
He’s not going to disappear
right out of the blue.
He’ll be there
on my wedding day
to see my excitement
and watch my dress sway.
He will walk down the aisle.
He’ll stand by side.
He’ll give me away
with that fatherly pride.
My stepfather will be there
for anything I desire.
Telling me to go for it,
and continually reach higher.
As far as I am concerned,
you owe him the world,
for taking the time to raise
your beautiful little girl.