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I fell in love with the way
You told me you'd always be there
And how you complimented
My every flaw
And said I was perfect to you

I fell in love with the way
We are so alike
And how our personalities
Tangle like ivy around an old cottage

I fell in love with the way
You made me feel like nothing else matters
Despite the darkening depression
Deep inside my soul
And the anxiety that riddles me
You made me feel like I was normal
And told me I was still beautiful to you

And ill always love the little things
About you that make me fall hopelessly
In love with you
And I hope, my love, you do not realise
That actually I'm not normal
And actually I'm not perfect
But maybe
Just maybe I'm normal and perfect
To you.
In shadowed light
Through filtered lens
I saw a glimpse
of fathers end.

Of daughters rise
Emerging glory
Stepping boldly
Into her own story

Not yet written
But past a draft
A lovley story,
Fore and aft

Only in audience
I watched her depart
Finding her own way
Directing her own  heart

A nostalgic sadness
For ego's caress
Not letting go
Of old address

But applaud I did
And ever will do
To honor what's past
And embrace what's  new

Her story's my story
If lesser role
Tis the way of things
To salve the old

I saw a glimpse
Of her hopes and dreams
Laid bare to all
Yet to all esteem

And now 'tis me
Who will find my place
With joyful heart
For her embrace
Most moments in our lives pass unnoticed, without remark or consciousness.
Then, there are those that mean something, or that we choose to mean something,
   that become a placeholder for our lives, to add meaning, understanding, passage
    a demarcation that bestows significance
My daughter graduated, under rainy skies and cool breezes.
The white tents in the grass flapped empty and lonely like a cancelled wedding
We sat in a loud gymnasium rather than in the grass quad surrounded by trees
I was there with a thousand other proud parents;
I circled her name in the program.  I waited for the moment when it was to be called; being    
   slightly afraid I'd miss it
And I whistled and yelled, but I don't think quite enough.  I didn't seem to mark the moment.
It was a moment, and I knew it, expected it, wanted it to be.
   so badly.  
Bittersweet.  I like that word, it explains life so well.
I like the idea of bittersweet and I wanted to have it envelope me that day.
I tried to hold on to it.   Like a good dream that comes too late in the morning and wont be prolonged quite far enough
I wanted to hold on, to understand what it meant.  I knew it meant so much,
   or, at least, I wanted it too.
I held on to understand what this meant to her.
I held on to remember my own graduation and the dream I then only fainty realized I had just experienced in my four years of college
I held on because I know her next steps take her further away.
I held on to feel what she felt in the mixture of joy, relief, sadness, confusion;
   all that goes with parting from friends who alone know the exerience you shared.
I held on to make sense of my life.  Making sense of moments makes them meaningful.  
I want life to be meaningful
I wish I would have written something that evening.  In the full emotion of the day.
I thought about it.
And now, like that dream, it is fading into morning light.  I can't remember all that was, or seemed to be, profound and important as I watched my daughter those two days.  
I want it to mean something enduring, symbolic and permanent.  
I want my life to be important, to reflect a famous quote from someone, to be in granite.  
Not so everyone will know it mattered, just so that I will.

— The End —