A face in a crowd.
The last memory my father has of his father is his face in a crowd.

The last time I saw my father, with my own two eyes,  I was in that crowd.

I can not explain what I felt.
Because I never let myself feel yet.
But I know, these heart dropping, bone shivering truths are brewing up a sick storm inside of my stomach. 

Theyre turning me  inside out
And my world upside down.