I saved a voicemail you left me on the 12th of February.
You said that you hoped I had a great day, and you were proud of me.
I’ll never delete that.
Not because I don’t think your proud of me,
but because one day soon I won’t be able to hear your voice anymore.
Words swell in my throat daily, and I feel like it’s going to collapse at any second.
But it doesn’t.
I swallow. Harder. Then even harder. And eventually the lump in my throat dies along with the tears swelling in my eyes.
I go to school, life, social events, and home with my mask.
Sometimes I even wear it to bed.
WHY! I scream in my mind. I scream so loud I’m sure everyone can hear me.
But they don’t. No one can or will.
Of all the people in this world, why you, Daddy?
Why my Dad, my rock and groundwork for my success?
Why, God, would you take your most loyal servant from me?
Right. You selfish god, you.
I saw a picture of us today, Dad.
We were happy. You smiled, and I smiled. WE smiled.
Family again. Whole again.
Just to be taken, for the last time.
Daddy, I don’t want to say goodbye.
Please Daddy. I’m tired of wiping my eyes, and ruining perfectly good shirts.
You’re still happy. How?
That’s right. Because heroes don’t cry.
And neither does my Dad.