Father, Will You Teach Me?

Father, Will you teach me?

I watched in idleness of your routine, hearing you wake and look in the mirror, and combing your hair and beginning. I wonder, what will you teach me today?

Father, will you teach me how to put that frame on the wall or paint the wall of the pretty colors mom likes to recall? 

Father, teach me how to stand up straight and be proud of the name we have; Teach me about being the modern day knight in the modern day world. 

Father, Will you tell me stories of the moments you were proud of; Moments you’re afraid of 

Will you tell me how great of a man you strived to be, so that I may understand how I could ever be someone like you. 

Father, will you teach me to stand among and near my brothers and how to love our mother?

Father, will you teach me how to talk to the pretty girl and tell me about the butterflies that fly within my chest. 

Father, Will you show me how you dress because my mother puts me in silly outfits. 

Father, this may sound silly but I have hair growing in my pants, tell me the meaning of all this growing I’m doing?

Father, teach me why education is important for a boy like me; With a adventurous spirit 

Father, Do you remember when you cut my hair? I never think about you when I sit in strangers’ chairs as they begin to snip my hair. Why didn’t you cut my hair more often?

Father, will you teach me about the community we’re in and what it means to be selfless?

Father tell me of your thoughts to lay near death and of sickness and never tell your children the meaning of success?

Father, Was this the legacy you intended to pass? 

I refuse to be the broken man. 

I refuse to be someone like you. 

I’ll show my children what you never intended to teach. 

Cornell, 

One day I will visit your grave and ask all the questions that linger with me. I understand that life isn’t easy and that I will never understand your trials and tribulations. I will never understand the decisions you made and the women you lay; to never raise the children here upon earth. I was the last son and we can decide that I was another child onto your empire. How scattered are your children and do they know what family is? How long did they have to fight for it without your guidance? Will they attend your funeral as a formal act as you leave this life? 

So here I am, 24 years old, spending my evening thinking about how much you could have been a better father. Here I am realizing the the responsibility of what it means to be a man to raise his children. A responsibility you neglected to face the demons that bored inside you. Do I pity the man or do I resent everything you’ve done? What reconciliation can be done with a dead man with no intentions of getting to know you nor leaving behind the decisions you made? What a pity for me, what a pity for you. Because I will be the last one who will bore your name in memory. Your name will be forgotten in time just as mine will be. But your grandchildren will be remembered for something for I will never be the same man as you. Regardless of the hardships that lay on a Man and his responsibilities. I will face and conquer the demons that await me.