Sometimes I still miss my father
I daydream of what his words might have been
I imagine that he is having a conversation with me
Or that he's painting with my sons
Maybe teaching them how to fix a car
Or build a motorcycle
I envision him sitting around the living room
Or kitchen table
Maybe sitting out back with us having his morning coffee
Caught up in one of the many
Indigenous people's issues we talk about regularly
My father who always claimed he was born to the wrong body
He was meant to be a native man
He'd been saying it since he was 6 years old, his mother tells me
That's why he was only ever with indigenous women
I picture his smile
His laugh
What his movements might have looked like
I don't question whether or not he'd be proud of me
I know that answer
I do wonder if it ever makes him sad that he can't be here
He can't interact with his grandchildren
or me
or my husband
this family that he always wanted
He can only watch through that impossibly thin veil
Sometimes I can feel when he's near
Occasionally that makes it harder
Sometimes I even feel him and my father in law together
Hanging out like a couple of old native guys
Laughing at our craziness
Shaking their heads at us
Wishing we knew how close they were to us
We're almost at another Autumn Equinox
The veil is getting thin
I always feel them when it's like this
So incredibly close
Separated by nothing more than a veil