The Sister of My Son*

You are my first born.
You taught me thrill
Adoration
Responsibility
And love.

Nothing on earth could touch you.
I was your protection.

I cleaned and bandaged your cuts.
I cheered your grade school performances
Your high school events
Took you on your first “date”
To teach you how boys must treat you.

I bargained for your first car
A little yellow Mustang.
I drove through a winter storm
To rescue you when it stalled
And pushed it a block
To safety
While you warmed under my heater.

I lectured you
When you selected an unworthy dating partner.
I carefully schooled the man
Who would become your husband
Before granting my blessing.

But I failed you, too.
I was absent when I should have been present.
I was harsh when I should have been gentle.
I was silent when I should have spoken
And spoke when I should have been silent.

Without discussion
You dismissed me
Withholding my precious grand daughters.
You knew precisely where to insert the blade
For maximum effect.

We have circled the sun
Time times time
Since I have seen you.
I may nevermore see you.

You were my most fond joy
But have become my greatest sorrow.

Like the Prayer of St. Francis
I learned to accept what I cannot change.
Nothing remains of you in my life.

You were once my daughter.
But by the volition of your will
You are now the sister of my son.

* Sadly, this poem is truth. I suppose I was a terrible father, being too chained to
my career. There is a price for such foolishness. Why is life most clear, viewed from
the perspective of age? My daughter is a lovely, good woman. But, like myself, will
one day see more sharply through the lens of advanced age. As for me...I seek
redemption through grace, undeserved. I held too lightly that which deserved a firm
grasp, and too tightly to that which held far less merit. Perhaps this confession
will serve as encouragement to a parent for whom the clock still ticks.