a work in progress

Category: Fatherhood (Page 2 of 6)

Do I wait for you to change?

Do I wait for you to change?

For you to see the light? 

For you to feel the feels? 

For you to freaking realise what you’ve fucking done? 


Because all that waiting means forgiveness. 

And I don’t have that. 

I just don’t have that. 


I have compromise. 

That is all I have. 

All I owe you. 

Everything I owe him. 


So if you don’t. 

We be gone. 


I didn’t know it. But for the longest time, in so many ways, for so many things, you were my compass. 
So much so that our identities started to meld into one. 
And so now a decade later. 
I have no blame for you. 
No victim for me. 
Just taking many moments a day to pause. 
And ask myself. 
Which way is my North. 



Are there signs everywhere?
Signs alerting us to distress.
To awareness.
My sister kindly nudging me with a warning.
A friend observing our behaviour.
My frustration at the little things.

Were they all warnings?
That thankfully, after a while,
Became seeds to larger thoughts of awareness.
That brought on a tiny little fight,
But one we knew we needed help with.
And I pray. Actually, scrap that, I rarely pray.
I send a message to the universe.
I am grateful.
(Just realised, that might be prayer).
I am grateful.
It was a little fight.

Because we never know what the darkness bring.
My one non-negotiable.


Disappointing The Ones We Love

I think. 
We worry about the little ways we’ll disappoint them. 
Maybe we’ll give an honest opinion. 

Maybe we won’t pick up the FaceTime call. 

Maybe we won’t do the dishes. 

Maybe we said no to the way they treat our children.

Maybe we won’t go for that walk they’ve been proclaiming does wonders. 

Maybe we’ll see them a little less. 

Maybe we’ll loose our temper and get angry. 

Maybe we travel far.

Maybe we’ll eat that ice cream they would disapprove of, or yet, that cheesey pizza slice. 

Maybe we’ll stand by someone else, other than them. 

Maybe we quit the job they told us not to quit. 

Maybe we married the man / woman / lover they didn’t approve of. 

Maybe we chose a different faith. 
There are a million ways. 
But I’m learning now, 

If I’m not true to me, 

I’ll be disappointing them with




False Arts. 
And deep love runs deeper than that. 



Once we stop comparing our father-in-law to our father. 
Our mother-in-law to our mother. 
We are released. 

From expectations. 

From hurt. 

From disappointment. 
They’re simply different people. 



I used to be agnostic. About grief. 

When my father had his heart attack, I couldn’t really begin to understand the depth. The gravity. 

After all. 

He was alive wasn’t he? 

Walking wasn’t he? 
So the grief skimmed my shoulders and took flight after a brief moment of trespass. 
But now. 

Now it dives deeper. 

And deeper. 
No longer in trespass. It owns the territory.
And I feel for you, as if my soul were in your body. 
And I realise. 

Because the fear. 

That this moment, will one day come to me. 

When my father too, breathes his last breath. 
The fear fills me so deep. 

I am drowning. 

And I cry tears for you. 

But perhaps just as many if not more for me. 
For a moment I’m not yet ready to face. 



If you don’t let them fall, How will you gather your tears? 
If you don’t howl in pain, 

How will you find relief? 
If you don’t find comfort at your wife’s collar, 

How will you flirt at her waist? 
Diamonds are never made love to my friend. 

Hard. Cool. Unfeeling. 

They lie upon a nape, all day, perhaps even, all night, but are never made love to. 






Fucked up. 



Than diamonds. 



Let your body be alive. 


The thing is.

The thing is. Everyone has needs and wants. 

And ultimately. 

Everyone is doing what they need to do, the have them met. 
So don’t be upset.

Don’t take it personally. 

And don’t give yours up. 
A little bit of compromise and a little bit of effort.


Baby you.

You’re no good. No good at all. 
Baby you’re no good for me. 

For us. 
You’re no good. 
Go get fixed. 




Go do what you need to do. 

Far from here. 
I don’t want you home. 

Till you’re done. 
For good. 

Dear Aru (early November, 2016)

Dear Aru,

It’s been a long time since I wrote of you.

In this way.

Today, you woke up halfway in the middle of your nap and your Papa told me to cuddle you for a bit. Perhaps you’d go back to sleep.

So I came in, picked you up and cuddled you into the crook of my arm.

The place you seem to love falling asleep in.

From the early days when you’d nod off after a feed.

And your fair face.

Eyes so angelic.

Your pouty lips.

And your blunt nose.

All like a little bit of heaven.

I say this all the time, but I like you even more now.

Perhaps these days won’t come back.

When you turn around hoping we’ll come chasing after you.

When you love it that I tickle your thighs.

Perhaps these moments will quickly become memories.

When you beg me to read a book 3 times over.

When you give me the last of your raspberries.

When you stare at a cat and scream, “CAT!!!! CAT!!! CAT!!!”, as if it’s won a Guinness Record.

Perhaps we’ll never get this again.

Never get this moment in the sun again.

With you.

When we really are your world.

Your world really does revolve around our laughter and our love.

This heaven.

Might never come back.


My love.

I just had to write it down, to tell you.

That there was a time.

When you once felt about us.

In this magnificent way.



Page 2 of 6

Powered by Life, Love and Everything In between.


Oh hi, please subscribe if you'd like posts to come auto-magically to your inbox.

I promise, no spam. xx K

Yay! Cannot wait to share more with you. xx K