Last night, I shed a tear for you,
thinking about your daughters, son, and mother to your kids.
A simple man who strayed away from trouble.
You will be missed.
There was a shining brilliance to your stillness, a wise man in disguise who helped me believe that, somehow, I could touch the sky.
I saw some pictures on the day of your interment.
I wish your loved ones didn’t need so much strength.
I see the ones you left behind, shattered, facing their sorrow as best they can.
Our greetings were fist bumps, but I hate to just remember you when you were always at arm’s length.
I admired your outfits, and when you came home from a long shift, you still kissed your children’s foreheads.
You treated me as your own.
I met you in oh-two
diving deep into your dominoes,
and now the soil knows your bones.
You always said that life was short;
you’ll spend it all while you’re breathing.
I see your point.
May God rest your soul, and hope you found some peace before leaving.
My friends lost their father. I wish I could be there for them in these hard times. They’re on vacation. They were celebrating great things, and then an integral part of their identity was suddenly gone. I have never felt grief; this may be the only time I relinquish my curiosity. I can feel their pain. I know just how much he was loved and how much he loved them.
