I ran toward him
And he turned away.
I tried to hold on to him
I could never get him to stay.

I got tired, bone weary.
Just went through the motions. Ignored the grief etched on his face So severely.

Waited for my chance to escape. One day I was free.
Left without a backward glance. What had he ever done for me.

A year ago, the calls started coming.
My wife would answer the phone.
She would look at me, I would turn away. She’d shrug and say I’m not home.

Then came letters in bright envelopes. Cards for lost birthdays.
Little packages like boxes of hope. With gifts and flowers and cake.

And that’s why I’ve come to this door, I thought I had seen the last of.
To face him! He can’t woo me.
Not after he rejected me,

Like some old cast-off.. Not after…

As I raise my hand to knock in hrumph. I see it’s ajar, so I step in
I don’t announce that I have come.

As I walk to the lounge I can hear him sobbing. I glance round the door and mum’s picture
Is in front of him.
I hear him tell her he will try and try

Till the end.
To get me back. To make amends.

I hear him say he misses me. His arms ache for his son. He is hoping for forgiveness. He wants a chance.

He knows he doesn’t deserve one.

I think of my wife, her laugh and her smile. I see my father, through the eyes of a man. Not the hurt of the child.

The way he treated me was wrong. I can hold on to that and leave him. I can forget what I saw.
Pretend I don’t need him.

I walk quietly to the door. Close it softly behind me

Take a breath, raise my hand.

Knock loud enough to raise the dead! Say it over and over again to myself In my head..

The door opens…. Hi dad.

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