a little bit of cathartic

I love you to bits and pieces.

dad,

come back to me in a dream. 

play the guitar in delicate whispers

of “it wasn’t supposed to end this way”

and “in another life, i’d live forever”

dad,

let me run into your arms one more time

sweep me off my feet 

and have me believe stupid things

like your arms will be my home forever. 

you aren’t strong enough to protect me from the world

but you once were. 

i was much smaller and you were much stronger,

it’s not your fault. 

dad,

trace the tattoo of your handwriting with your fingers,

we can act like it hadn’t changed. 

like nothing’s changed. 

like your memory isn’t sepia toned and faded,

like you can recall what day it is. 

dad,

tell me about life while your lips can make out words,

while your brain can recall those times,

before your body fails you. 

tell me everything i’ll need to know

answer every question i’ve never gotten to ask. 

dad,

for a minute, can we cry together?

can we talk about the love we’ve lost,

the time we’ve lost?

the tragedy of our existence,

and how finite life is?

dad,

hold me one more time before your body fails you,

and i’m sorry if i scratch you,

but i will cling to you

with every fingernail

and it may draw blood,

trying to pull you away

from the gates of heaven

and the force of fate. 

dad,

promise me you will look down

from the beautiful plot of heaven

you are owed

and tell me i’m doing okay,

whisper to me in the wind,

be the itch in my pocket i can’t get rid of. 

find me in spare change and quarters in my car,

or mismatched socks,

or stray cats. 

color the sky in colors only we know,

cry with me in the rain,

warm me with the sun,

kiss me with snowflakes. 

dad,

this wasn’t supposed to happen

and i think we both know our time was cut short

and i think i will spend the rest of my life 

kicking myself in the leg

for not making the most of our time

while i had it

while i have it

while it was here

while you’re here.