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My Father

February 18, 2014

What I would give for another hour-
Another play-through of Mario
Or shooting hoops in the backyard.
Even greater I would trade for more-
A long conversation about whatever
Or to hear you say I’m okay as I am.
Three years feels just like yesterday
But I know my last memories of you are far away.

This was the beginning of what was going to be poem about my father. Unfortunately, the inspiration wasn’t entirely there or I just could not get my thoughts out the way I wanted to. My father and his death are two subjects I try to avoid talking about.
I never had actual conversations with my dad. At least not one I can remember now. My biggest regret is never coming out to him. I feared my father, even while his health was deteriorating from the cancer. I always tried to do my best in school and work so I could be successful and make him proud. But I was never prepared for how he would take to me being gay. So I never told him.
And now I’ll never know what he would have said to me.
That’s the worst part of losing someone- the unsaid.
But nothing I do can change what never happened and I guess I should understand that and not let it fester inside. I think I might start a journal- get out everything I want to say to him that I never got the chance to.
Anybody have some other suggestions on how to cope?


From → 2014, The Blogs

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Alexis Chateau

Activist. Writer. Explorer.

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