He'd Let me. Until he didn't

He’d Let Me. Until He Didn’t

As a kid, I’d build those magnificent pillow forts with him,

Climb on his back and go for piggy-back rides,

He was my punching board, one that wouldn’t break,

And every time I’d call him names, he’d let it slide.

As time flew by, and I got older,

I was no longer able to sit on his shoulder,

Now he’d let me watch cricket together,

Sometimes even wrestling, and hold me when I’d shudder.

And then I got older, and him, more experienced,

We now rarely talked, seldom shared a sorrowful grievance

I was in college, and it was very hard to go meet him,

But a phone call everyday was our custom, and I’d honour it till I’d see him.

And there I was, now four years past college,

There he was, five past retirement.

I still hadn’t seen him, by his wishes I would never abide.

But again, like always, of course he let it slide.

When I became what he was, I finally went to see him,

My family now had three, maybe that brought the whim.

But upon reaching that merry avenue, things were not so pleasant all around.

I looked, and looked again, but he was nowhere to be found.

All my life he’d let me do everything, anything I ever wanted to,

Bear the pain, humiliation and embarrassment, he’d always do.

As I went home that day, melancholic, and in misery, I,

Thought about how he let me do everything. He just never let me say goodbye!