Oddly, I know several people who have recently lost their fathers. I specifically wrote this for one of them. Because it seemed like a lot of loss in a short time, I thought I’d pass this along to the others who are in grief; it’s what I imagine a father and child relationship could feel like…
in the surge of a moment,
my lifeline had ceased –
those semblances of a future fella
who thought like me,
fought like me,
crumbled like rain-soaked chalk
against the stark concrete
of my childhood whimsy.
I held onto a corner of his pant leg,
like a naive notion of a tooth fairy-dream
stay with me, daddy,
silently begged him not to go.
tried to hide forthcoming tears,
pleaded that I wouldn’t stay up past nine if he’d read me
just one more story.
Please, pop, just one more story.
But I know, that he knew,
that I knew,
son, things in life don’t work out that way…
I rebelled against time’s validity, anyway.
Just as he suspected I would.
Pretty, pretty please, dad.
I’m looking up at you, to you and for you.
take this book of my heart that’s hurting
from my helpless hand,
find a way
to place it in yours,
and let me believe
our story again.
His dissipating shadow
turned towards me,
sadly he nodded and sighed with defeat.
and yet, his eyes still smiled at me
as he walked away.
pages don’t have ears, son,
but words, these words, my words
of pride, and love, and gratitude
that you are mine,
have eternal heart….