The Things You've Missed

You missed my first day of elementary school, middle school, high school, and college.
You missed my 8th grade talent show.
Michael Jackson's "Wanna Be Starting Somethin,"
I choreographed the whole thing myself.
You missed every play and musical I was in.
You missed every field hockey game and track meet I had.
You never saw the article in the paper about the time I made the save that qualified our team for the state champion chip.
You missed my graduations.
You missed every medal, trophy, and award I've ever gotten
and every single time I have ever felt proud.
You missed it when I got dehydrated at field hockey camp and needed to be picked up.
You missed every birthday after the age of three.
You never danced a father daughter dance with me.
You never took me to work with you on take your child to work day.
You never spent a Father's day with me.
You never taught me how to ride a bike.
You never read me bedtime stories about princesses in far away lands or tucked me into a pink flowery bed.
You missed my first time on the road.
You missed my first car accident.
You missed the time I fell down the stairs and really messed up my foot.
You missed my first day working and how giddy I was to be making my own money.
even if it was at Chuck E. Cheese
You missed it when I felt my first heartache.
You never told me the type of men to watch out for.
You never told me that falling in love would hurt.
You weren't there when I sat looking out the window and at every car that passed by I said, "Daddy?"
I can see you now, nursing a bottle of liquor and some crack cocaine when you could have been nursing me.
You were never my hero.
Now, when you call I don't pick up and I don't return your calls.
I don't want to talk to you.
We have nothing to talk about.
I simply don't care at all.