can you see me, papa?

are you watching me?
can you 
see the way
i walk 
and stand,
telling others
that you 
are my beginning?
i can still see those hands...
wringing and gripping,
as you pondered
over things,
that would
become my concern,
later in life.
i can still hear
your laughter,
when
 i watch
the same things
we watched
when i was knee high.
yet now it comes 
from  deep within my soul.
a booming, riotous
imitation
which sometimes
brings tears
to my eyes.
we never
went fishing,
tossed a ball around,
or even
shared a drink
as men...
all the things
that 
fathers and sons
attempt 
to experience.
yet what you did give
was
a lifetime of learning
and fond memories
that i still cherish
eternally.
can you see me papa?
am i the man 
you wanted me to be?
sometimes,
i wring my hands too,
and wish,
with all my heart
i could see you
nod your head
in approval...