Too Many Years

I’d been waiting at the depot for the Sudbury bus

To meet my real dad, years ago:

He’d answered my letter to meet this one time

And I felt there was so much to know.

But he hung up the phone before I could ask,

And now we will meet in this place:

He’d been dead for so long in my young memory,

I could not even picture his face.

Would I recognize him, would he remember me?

Or would we be strangers that day?

It’s been too many years, with too many fears

And I wish he had not gone away.

Years later, I flew into Pearson to visit my son,

He’d just had a boy of his own:

I was aware of the time that had passed since I’d left,

I knew there was much for which to atone.

Would he forgive me my absence for all these long years?

Would we even know what we should be?

Can one really be sure that this hurt can be healed?

I’d done to him what’d been done to me.

Would I recognize him, would he remember me?

Or would we be strangers that day?

It’s been too many years, with too many fears

And I wish I had not gone away.

And the echoing years have come yet again

As I think of those times way back then:

Can I turn back the clock to what might have been?

Will I be part of my new kith and kin?

I’d been trying for years to make contact with them

And doing some research, while online,

I found one wee thread which brought me in touch

With cousins related to my father’s line.

In London, I’d gone to one male cousin’s home

And he’d set up this visit for me:

To meet all my clan at a home barbecue

So they the prodigal could see.

Would I recognize them, do they know about me?

Or would we be strangers that day?

It’s been too many years, with too many fears

And I hope as a family we’ll stay.