I miss him.
I miss everything about him.
The older I get, the less memories I keep.
But I remember the nicknames.
I remember the carpet burns.
I remember the ham sandwiches cut into 4 triangles.
I remember that one time he put me in the bin and I laughed all afternoon
(although now I’m older I realise that was his illness).
I was so young when it happened
I was never taught how to deal with it.
So now I have these photos,
3 to be exact,
And I don’t know how to feel.
I don’t know how to cope.
I just miss him.