The Living Years
Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door
I know that I’m a prisoner to all my father held so dear
I know that I’m a hostage to all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years
— The Living Years by Mike + The Mechanics
Parents can disregard, fail, and neglect their children. But it’s a two-way street. Children can also inflict deep, lasting harm.
When I was 13, I hurt my father deeply with careless, ignorant words. Our relationship was never the same. We lived with an uneasy peace and small talk for the nearly 20 years he had left.
My favorite picture of me and Dad.
Mike Rutherford explained that the song came from the regret of never really talking to your father — a generational gap made wider by cultural shifts.
Dad taught me the value of the afternoon nap in the comfy chair.
Making It Right
A Letter to My Father
Dad,
I was 13, sitting with you watching SNL that weekend in ’85. When Terry Sweeney appeared, I blurted out, “That guy is gay.” You asked calmly, “How can you know that?” I replied, “He admitted it.”
That word — “admitted” — cut you deep. I didn’t know you were gay. I was ignorant and full of dumb ideas. That moment built a wall between us that I could never fully tear down before you died.
Now I’m a dad myself. I understand the pain a child’s careless words can cause. I wish I could tell you I’m sorry and that I’m proud to be your son — in the living years.
Love, Jim
The last portrait of my dad.
Forty years later, I still carry that regret. But I carry your love forward too — teaching my own children to speak with kindness and understanding before time runs out.
Dad, I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m still proud to be your son.
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