This is John, leave a message at the tone and ill get back to you…(beep)
Believe me, its as awkward for me to call you that as it is for you to hear it.
Finding what to call you isn’t simple,
It hasn’t been since you left
We were your rough draft of adulthood
You saw what didn’t work and made changes the next time
Only the rough draft turned out better than the finished product
We used to watch wrestling together
You taught me about heels and faces
While setting me up for the biggest heel turn of all
I don’t wanna know why
If time has taught me anything its that some questions are better left unanswered
Like this phone call
You were my hero I pretended went off to war
Knowing you weren’t coming back I couldn’t declare you dead
You were merely missing in action
and I held down the fort for you
My hatred for you used to swell in me like an allergic reaction
But time has been an antibiotic, decreasing the swelling and restoring normalcy
I was your “little man” and I loved it
Until I realized how sick that nickname was.
I was little and forced to play the role of man that you deserted
I’m calling you on Father’s Day not because I got tired of calling Mom.
It’s because I’m tired of pretending like I don’t love you
Because having my own son made me realize,
it’s unfair to hold you to a standard I haven’t achieved yet
This doesn’t bring closure but rather an olive branch,
and when this branch rots ill extend another
not because you deserve it
but because I’ve been making them since the day you left
and my heart is running out of storage space.