Monday, December 19, 2022

At Century’s End

Today is my father’s birthday.  Had he lived, today he would be ninety-nine.  He did not of course.  In fact he fell far short.   Forty-one and a half years short to be exact.  

I wish he had lived long enough to see whether he and I could have ever come out on the other side of the war we relentlessly waged against each other the final year of his life.  Mostly I wish he and I had ever learned how to communicate.  

I spent most of the past forty years not understanding what fueled his rage. It took longer than it should have but I finally figured it out.   





Sorry, Dad, for being such a slow learner.  Inexcusable for a teacher’s son, I know.  





Happy Birthday, Dad.  

-AK

1 comment:

  1. Years ago, I fell over a quote I've carried with me because it took me forever to puzzle through it and think I'd understood it (finally or maybe, never figured out which): “Every son quotes his father, in words and in deeds.” I believe that's true for all three of us. -bill

    ReplyDelete