My father passed away last month, on September 6th. I'm feeling all the range of emotions I've been told I'll feel: sadness, numbness, frustration, confusion, joy (from the good memories), etc. Some of them at the same time.
Well, writing helps. For the first time in weeks, I've felt like penning something. And it's a small tribute to my dad. It's nothing fancy or eloquent, but it captures how I'm feeling right now. It captures the shock of my trying to process this thing called grief. Just felt like sharing...
The Last Time…
I didn’t know it was the last time.
That I’d see you smile or laugh at your own jokes.
I didn’t know it was the last time
You’d ride in the car with me, look at the clouds, tell me that “time is irrelevant now”.
I didn’t know it was your last meal,
French toast, made by Karen, gobbled up fast.
I didn’t know it was the last time
I’d watch you direct your chorus, ring chords with your quartet.
I didn’t know it was the last time
We’d have intense chats about “Justified” or the newest Jack Reacher novel.
I didn’t know it was the last time
You’d hug your parents or grandkids or wife. Or me.
I didn’t know it was the last time
You would talk about politics or work or golf, things that mattered then.
I didn’t know it was the last time
We’d watch a British movie together (“Soames!”) or laugh at “Who’s Line.”
I didn’t know it was the last time
I’d go Christmas shopping for your presents online.
I didn’t know it was the last time
You’d watch a football game or text a friend or read from your Kindle.
I didn’t know.
But it wasn’t the last time. Not really.
Because someday, in a heavenly realm,
We WILL sit and talk again.
We will embrace and catch up, and I’ll see
That smiling, radiant face.
And we will both be peaceful. Happy.
Forever united. No more good-bye’s.
No more “last time’s.”
