The day my father died, my family sat at his bedside
watching a deteriorating man's mind slip from his weak grasp;
Mother, father, sister, brothers, brother in-laws, wife and son
all sat in the cramped hospital room trying to say goodbye
while he hallucinated the photo copier at work wasn't working, due to lack of oxygen to his brain.
His daughter, the only one absent from the room, sat at home alone,
playing video games on the computer he gave me back when I'd never heard of cancer.
The day my father died, my papa left his sons bedside
with his head slowly slumping further past his shoulders as he joined me on the couch.
In my basement, my papa wept. I stared at a wall.
Looking back, I wonder if this was his way of saying goodbye to me
before I'd become someone much different than I should have been.
My mother had never held it together on her own, now alone
My brother'd have to teach himself how to shave, one day
And myself, left to fill shoes that were never supposed to be empty.
The day my father died,
His family died too.