The Midlife Crisis of Father’s Day

This is John, leave a message at the tone and ill get back to you…(beep)

Hello John.

Dad.

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.