He was never a man to me.
This thunder that came down the hallway.
A lumbering giant who knew his job.
The role he chose with no regrets.
I grew up in his shadow and in awe of his presence.
This force of nature knew who I was.
He towered over me watching my back.
A protector of my world.
The nights removed him.
Forty hours away from a warm bed and his woman’s embrace.
The needs of the kin strengthened his focus.
His lengthy path walked without complaints.
She summoned him when that final straw broke her.
My rebellious agenda was rendered powerless by his stare.
His judgments were fair, a respect for my worth.
Silent acts of compassion defined him.
Time has our eyes now equally view each other.
I see him now as he is.
My father is a man to me now.
The one who every man should strive to be.