An almost-stranger
called me to the hospital
And I rode with my family
Nearer-knowing the reality
than I thought.
I walked through old familiar halls,
Remembering a bout with pneumonia and
Family brushes with car wrecks and cancer.
And then I found my mother--
Weeping,
Tissue box in hand.
“He’s gone,” she said.
And I looked around for my children
And wondered how they would be
Affected by the news.
We sat
And waited
for God only knows what.
And the coroner came and took us in a room
To see him,
that grey, husk of a man.
How could they say that he--
that cold man
Is my father?
I shed a tear or two
And made decisions
Right and wrong
Dreading the day when I would grieve.
Days and weeks passed,
Years came and went,
And I,
Was left to wonder
How you can miss someone
You never had . . .