Poem: So Many Things I Wish I Had Done

So Many Things I Wish I Had Done

So many things I wish I had done, so many things I wish

I had said, all those words

that could have comforted

but that I withheld,

so now even so many years after my father’s death

I wish I could call him back

from inside the mausoleum drawer at Calvary Cemetery,

reach him through all that steel and metal,

tell him how now that my own children are grown

and have children of their own, 

how much he taught me about how to love,

how to forgive even the sharpest words

hurled in anger,

even the biggest betrayals,

I want to thank him for understanding 

how much I would regret my cruel and thoughtless words,

how even sixty years after I called him disgusting

for drinking his coffee from a saucer

as all the immigrant Italians did,

that I can still see his eyes,

the pain in them,

though he did not yell or grow angry.

He grew quiet instead

pretending he did not understand

that I wanted that middle-class father

he could never be.

I imagine I can sit with him once again

in his crowded little living room,

he, in his brown recliner from Medicare, 

I, in the chair next to him, 

and I would hold his hand.

by Maria Mazziotti Gillan

This poem first appeared at Ragazine

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Maria Mazziotti Gillan's most recent books are the poetry and photography collection, Paterson Light and Shadow and the poetry collection, What Blooms in Winter. Her collection of poems paired with some of her paintings is The Girls in the Chartreuse Jackets. Her artist's website is MariaMazziottiGillan.com and her poetry website is MariaGillan.com.