Father Dearest

So my older half sister texts me last night to say that it was the 20th anniversary of our father's death. It was kind of an eerie feeling to say the least, I mean I didn't have any memories of the man anyway, because he was never around. This fact alone was the reason why I didn't even know about this particular date. Just when I begin to feel at ease and come to terms with never knowing him, something like this brings about issues that have never been resolved and begins to sit on my aura for a minute. I know I'm a trooper and this too will pass, but I do know his birthday is coming up soon too, so just more to deal with. But what can I do? You can't change the past, so it's better to reflect on it and then move on I suppose.

That being said I decided to repost a poem that I wrote years ago to express some of the feeling I was having about Bio dad:


If the sins of the Father, are revisited on the son,
then there should be no doubt in my mind
that my life is destined to be a chaotic one.

Some may not understand,
and then there will be those that who will surely comprehend
from the extent of my astonishment from of reflection of myself,
not only on the outside but deep within

How can I continue to ignore this feeling of despair -
that comes face to face
In my reflection through the mirror.

A reflection of my life, with a piece missing from the puzzle
of someone not known, but apart of me still
this reflection brings up questions and theories
of my existence, sometimes making me ill

The fact that although I am grown-
up to be the man that I am,
but how could one visualize
a man not known

Sure, a picture here or there I may possess,
but what secrets do these photos hold?
Or should I be grateful from the stories told,
by those that he had known

But who are THEY?
The same ones who claim to know me and my identity?
They being the ones that do not have to go through
the constant avoidance and disillusion of an everyday mirror
because of the knowing and expectation that some days,
at least once, they won't be staring at themselves,
but of something or someone that is apart of you,
but at the same time is not you.

A constant reminder -
of feelings that will never be shared or expressed.
This reflection that I encounter
Is the image and lack of knowledge of an unknown father.

Never mind the true idea that I look and stare into his eyes
every time I glance into the mirror,
But how can one look like the man that indulges my fear.
Frightened by the time lost that can never be retrieved,
By someone , shall I say a stranger whom helped give
me life, my identity, the way I think and breathe.

Looking like the person I have to love because of life,
but despising him at the same time, because he wasn't apart of my life, right?
How could it possibly be, that I can remember the one person I can't see
and thru the mere fact of nature I love, but on nurture I despise?
Being honest with my inner-self we have the same nose, lips, and
even back to the eyes -
Those eyes that look as if they hold a general history or detailed story.
Did they hide the same anguish or a little bit of lost glory?

Now what seems to bother me about this sin:
Is that the mirror is a reflection of the physical appearance we share,
but what of other similar traits that we possess from within?
Could the way I talk or listen be shared?
How about the way I laugh, when something is amusing
Maybe even the same body language when mad, upset, or when something is confusing

The bigger questions have nothing to do with actions or words
but that of future outcomes which to some may be absurd
But what genetic codes and flaws might he have had, plagues that I may pass
to my future sons born into this world whom I will not let be subjected
to the same turmoil that has claimed my consciousness

Although I may make some mistakes along the way
when he looks at his reflection, he won't be confused at what he's seeing
cuz what he sees will be me having his back everyday throughout his life

The mirror won't be a haunting reflection that I've had to carry with the ghost of my past
Maybe there will come a day that all I would ever see is the reflective image
of my own being, the man I've become through the looking glass!