A piece of poetry I wrote about a trip I took during this winter break

Loving Father
I remember the first time
my dad played catch with me.
I remember him running behind me
the first time
I tried to ride my bike
without the training wheels.
I remember him telling me the only way
to deal with Andy
the school bully
was to face him
and fight back
I remember him telling me
he'd be proud
of me
no matter what I chose to do with my life.

Actually,
None of that is true.

My first memory of my father
was discovering a web page link
to an LA tombstone
10 years ago
Indicating,
He'd been buried
Not far
From where I lived most of my life.

I wondered
how he could live so close
yet be so far.
I wondered
if he'd ever seen me
or had I seen him.
Had he left
Because of commitment
Or did commitment
Leave him?
Was he just not
ready
to be a father?

As I stand here today
Standing over your grave
A long-lost son
Paying respects
To a long-lost dad,
I see the inscription
And the flowers
Fall from my hands
And scatter themselves
across the freshly mowed grass.

Kenneth Gundrum
Deceased
"Loving Father"

I fly home confused
And betrayed.

---Duane Gundrum, 2003

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