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Not Very Subtle, Dad

The robin’s back again.

 

Same one

or at least that’s what I tell myself.

 

Gets close,

too close for a bird that small,

tilts its head like it’s clocking me,

then flies off

right when I start to believe it.

 

Not very subtle, Dad.

 

You always did have a way

of making a point

without saying it straight.

 

Like that time Mum ran over the lawnmower cable

exact thing you warned us about for years

and there it was again,

 

that same robin,

just sitting there,

watching it all play out

like,

“See? Told you.”

 

I clocked it.

I know it was you.

 

I say these things in prayer now.

Feels mad saying it out loud,

but up there

or wherever you are

I know you hear it.

 

Been thinking about you and

Uncle Bob lately.

He’s up there with you now.

 

Reckon you’ve found each other already,

no big reunion speech,

just that same quiet nod

you both always did.

 

That unspoken understanding

older men seem to have.

 

Like words were optional

once you’d lived enough.

 

Makes me wonder though

when you were younger,

did you ever say it all out loud?

 

Did you ever shout how you felt?

Or was it always that

South London thing,

keep it in,

keep it moving,

don’t let it show too much?

 

I wish I asked you that.

 

There’s a lot I wish I said properly.

 

Not in passing,

not half-joking,

not assuming there’d be time.

 

Things like

I see you in small moments.

 

In warnings that come true.

In birds that don’t act like birds.

In the way I catch myself

thinking like you

before I even realise it.

 

And I wanted you to know -

I noticed.

 

I’m still single.

Nearly 40 now.

 

And yeah, I think about it

about the way you and Mum had it.

 

Still have it.

 

That kind of love that don’t look flashy,

don’t need announcing,

just… stays.

 

Solid.

 

I always thought,

with this many people in the world,

every connection’s already rare.

 

But you two?

 

Different countries.

Different lives.

 

Seven thousand miles between you,

and still found a way.

 

A love letter sprayed with perfume.

A tenner hidden inside a letter like a joke

that meant more than money.

 

1983.

 

No WiFi.

No instant replies.

No “seen” receipts.

 

Just waiting.

Trusting.

Choosing each other

without all the noise.

 

And somehow

it lasted.

 

Meanwhile now,

we’ve got everything.

Fast messages,

video calls,

money sent in seconds

 

and still

people can’t hold onto anything.

 

Including me.

 

Funny, that.

 

I used to think love was easier now.

Turns out

it’s just louder.

 

More options,

less meaning.

 

I wonder what you’d say about it.

 

Probably something simple.

Something that sounds obvious

until you actually sit with it.

 

That was your way.

 

The robin’s still coming around,

you know.

 

Not every day.

Just enough.

 

Just when I need reminding

that something still carries on

even when it’s not in front of you.

 

I don’t say it out loud much.

 

But I’ve said it where it counts.

 

Everything I didn’t get to say

I’ve said it.

 

And I just hope

wherever you are,

 

you heard me properly.

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Written by
Mahayag
39 / M / England
Published
Apr 22
Lines·Words
124·527
Tags
#dad#london#robin#sad#distance#heaven#love#son#40
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