Forty-eight

Today, he turns forty-eight,
and I've known him nineteen
That's a lot of ups
and a lot more downs
I think that's the only way
for a father and his son
It's the only way I've seen
Considering it, I guess
we've never fully understood
the dynamic we've made
I just know it goes back
long before I was a thought,
when he was still a boy
Maybe even further still,
but I know nothing of then
The simple thing of it is
disappointments are there
on both sides of it
and they won't go away
We're too bull-headed
to let them fade out
And, though, sometimes
I feel I've never
given him real pride,
I've come to terms
with the knowledge that
he doesn't understand
anymore than his father did
or anymore than I do
I can't ask for more
My only concern these days
is that I'll perpetuate it
I'd like to believe
I'm stronger than him,
that I can break the curse,
but these things are prone
to repeat themselves
That's a cruel thing,
but it's real,
and I won't ignore it
to find myself making
the same damned strides