My little love.
My great joy.
My boy.
My little man.

How special it is to adore you
to hold you
to see you
run, jump, laugh, giggle, twist and turn
hide and seek, play
in all the ways that you do.

So moving
to be with you, to be your dad
like a wave, growing, far out at sea, in the deepest canyons of my soul
rolling in and embracing me with my love for you
filling every crevice of my waking senses
devouring me
embracing me
with your little arms
your laughter in my ears as you slip your hand into mine
wanting to feel my skin, to be closer.

How deeply I love you.
I feel for you.
I care for you.
Not even a word can explain, can capture what this is, an emotion without a title, but not without its own sweet
rolling
existence.

My son, my boy
My little love, how far can this take us our love
our growing friendship?
Into another life, from one before?
I do not know – it’s not so relevant
today.

For today is what we have, now, and it’s full enough, here enough, real enough, deep enough to find within it an eternity of moments, an infinity of morsels
of love, of meaning, of togetherness.
I just need to stop, turn inside
look
and there you are.
Etched on the wall of my every cell
plasmic
electric
quantum.
You’re there, here, you’re part of me.

My boy, my love, I just wanted to tell you
how so very special you are to me
and how so blessed I feel
to be
your dad.

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 ***** 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.

(Check out more of my work at PoemsofaDad.com)