Where do I start with disappearing fathers?
There was mine who disappeared into the bottle,
and then death. There was my children's father,
absent financially, whom they saw once a year
for three days. Then my youngest's, who did
the most thorough disappearing act of all.
I watched them, all my life, the fathers:
washing their cars in the driveway,
coming home at the end of the day
to their normal homes, their normal lives,
the husbands and fathers I had longed for,
who never arrived.
They were a breed undiscovered
and foreign: the ones who stayed.
At writers' group, when we read
the stories of our childhood, I listen
as if to a fairy tale, about summer nights,
fireflies, and happy families.
When I look up from reading my piece,
the faces are appalled, my stories
tales from the Brothers Grimm,
full of disappearing fathers,
strong, exhausted mothers,
and children longing for a Normal
they had never learned to recognize,
and so could never find.
Inspired by Disappearing Fathers by Faith Shearin
This is very poignant, Sherrie. You did not luck out with your father or with the fathers of your children.And I do strongly feel your yearning for what you saw others have but didn't have yourself. I like this poem a lot, as it is so real and honest. It is one of your best!
ReplyDeleteI used to wish my Drill Sergeant Dad would disappear! (On the whole I'm glad he didn't.)
ReplyDelete