It Was Always the Women

I forgave him, but there are days I still don’t like him much

Women, always the women with my dad And the beer, let’s not forget the beer, which led to the women like a straight arrow from God’s bow

I sit in my old chair, staring at a picture of dad at twenty The Marine Corps shot of the sergeant Black jacket, red trim, short hair, the defiant, arrogant look practiced so hard

Did he already know then Had he planned to come home from Korea, marry an uneducated, seventeen year farm old girl, father two boys, then toss her on the curb when she was twenty three with no money, no job, just dragging along her boys, who were too young to understand why their father got rid of them like taking out the Friday morning trash

And it was about a woman It was always about the women One already married One who stayed married Drove him to divorce, he didn’t care, there would me more, there were always more Drink the beer, find the women, but it was the chase he loved, not the love

I stare at the picture The man long dead The memories still bring tears… I only ever wanted one thing from him I wanted him to feel what I felt Six years old Your mother sobbing, face pressed against the window next to you in the back seat Her father driving us away from what had been our home just an hour ago He stared at us out the window, no wave goodbye, just a passive face of relief

I wanted him to feel before he died, even for a mind numbing minute, what it is like to have your life stolen from you To be afraid and not understand why To ask what we had done wrong on the phone and get no answer All gone, all lost, six years old Over a damn woman dad… one you didn’t even love

I forgave him, found peace with him as an old man before the cancer finished his life but there are still days I don’t like him much