Father

My dad was a doctor and a military man, sounds strange enough, isn’t it clear?
But no matter how ridiculous it could be - that’s not the point I’m making in here

What a pain it takes me to love my dad, when he died I was still under four 
But I love him, it seems, all in spite of the fact I can hardly remember him anymore 

But I do remember the day he died, it was far away – far away from here 
It has been half a year by that time since I’ve last seen him – so I didn’t burst in tears 

I’m getting older, pretty soon I’ll be as old as he was the day he died
And it’s clear to me he did the right thing - he died when I really needed him to die 

For the time we’d had before he died was enough for me to take from my dad 
All the good things that he’d had to share with me - and I didn’t had the time to take from him the bad 

Someone might think I shouldn’t be saying all this of the man that has given me birth - my dad 
But can’t it stay between him and me? For I think he’s all right with what I’ve just said