My Father died at 63 I’m now 75 I remember the day I turned 63 Thinking I would finally know What he knew Be able to feel what he felt See what he saw And to be who he was But I wasn’t a decorated World War 2 Marine The last of his platoon To survive The Solomon Islands the graveyard Of most of his friends He died on a Thursday But we were estranged ‘Another woman who was not my Mom’ Looking back I wonder What could I have changed What words would I have used To say to him …