Oh, Father, Dear Father Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Oh, Father Dear!

When my children were small, I played with them, I was
a good father carried them on my shoulders, but when
they became teenagers and truculent I lost all interest in
their silly arguments paid for their education and went
abroad to live in our second home in Spain.
My children never write or ring, their mother, who didn't
come to live with me, says it is because I had forsaken
them. I paid for their university and used my influence to get
their well-paid jobs, yet they feel I should have done more
I think they should be ashamed of themselves.
It was me and my actions that made them independent
beings who can look after themselves; and I know after
I`m gone they will understand, I'm not the cuddling type,
but I made them whole; and yes, I think of them often,
love them very much, but will not seek their approval.
And if anyone of them read this and think the old man
has gone soft and sent me letters of love I will, without
a second thought, tell them to piss off, my money will go
to my second family in Spain, I have young children here
and I carry them on my shoulders every day.