Sometimes, when I entertain
for but a tiny moment
a memory of you – however jigsawed, fragmented, or cut into some chronological melange
I find myself treading water.
Lost in a cold black-blue baltic sea.
Bobbing hopelessly.
Shivering bitterly
from the sadness of your loss.
Other days, the memories warm me.
Like bright mountain sunlight
rolling down my cheeks
over my back
turned toward the light of your love
the space, your presence once filled
heating my clothing
leaving me toasty.
The sum: you haunt me.
But,
in all the ways, I could ever wish you would.
I see you
in the kids: their faces, their bodies, their personalities, their choices
in their little dirty grins
in the lines that dart
from their smiles to my heart.
I see you
standing, silently in the shadows
there around the corner
watching with that stoic focus
so common to your face
with the things that meant the most to you
contently smiling.
I hear you
singing late at night
in the ear of my memory
on that old well-loved
maple wood guitar.
And I wish I’d told you then
how much I loved it – and would cherish it
now that you’re gone.
In the firelight that flickers
licking its way to tender orange morsels
of a memory’s distant ember
slowly burning out within
this mind.
So fragile.
I’m just trying to hold on
so the kids might know you.
But desolately, you’re slipping.
Far further than you’ve already gone
– through the black coattail of death.
Now
through the fingertips of memory.
The haunting
slowly
fading…
I can’t scream loud enough!
Pray hard enough.
Curse strong enough!
To arrest the decay…
… just when I thought I’d gotten used
to losing you
once.
You were my love.
I, yours.
And I miss you
Mum.
PoemsofaDad 