days turned into weeks
weeks turned into months
and, today,
twelve months make up a year
that you've been gone

i will never forget how
on one of the worst days i'd ever faced
you told me to smile
because you thought i was
"so beautiful when i smiled"
and that i should be happy

you seemed to be the happiest of all
and then it all turned upside down;
we were hurled into a frenzied mess
of confusion and shock and questions...
so many questions
that would remain unanswered

there were so many things that
no one was aware of;
things we couldn't comprehend at the time,

and, to this day, i still can't.

t.m.

There's a catch in my breath like
the catch in your step from
the wound. "Where'd you get it?" I
asked you when I was five.

There's a hole in my chest like
the hole in your leg from
the wound. "It was a gift." I
didn't understand when you said it. I was five.

There's cold marble planted in the grass like
the countertops you bought from
Ikea. "Not really what it says on the box, is it?" you said. I
understand now. I was five,
but now at twenty I understand
the wound. And the box. And the gift.
The one I didn't appreciate nearly enough when I was five.

"Ain't it the way!" Your catchphrase, engraved. Delivered with a grin.
It would read so much better coming from your lips.
Those lips, on that contented smile, on that face,
in that box, now cold like that granite it's closed now within.

its thanksgiving, two thousand fourteen
I listen to "Alices restaurant"
the full eighteen minutes and sixteen seconds, in remembrance
of how thankful I was to have a father, like you.

step back, correct your own mistakes
respect our mourning, don't deflect what you'll regret in the end
you haven't only disrespected us, you've neglected taking into consideration my fathers wishes.
take care of us
being unaffected shows your carelessness.
cause' we won't stick around forever, now remember never bring another man into this home.
Its your house, but our home.
why can't you ask yourself, what would dad think about this
he is gone, but not a moment is forgotten.
you've crossed a line, you can't come back from.

I don't get it.
My brother is dead, but why?
It doesn't feel like he is.
But I know he is.
I walk into his room and everything is in place.
Its like he never left.
Like he's coming back still.
No one gets it.
"Be strong for your mom and dad."
"They're going through a tough time, take care of them."
He was my ******* brother too.
I knew him better than they did.
No one asks if I'm okay.
And those who have obviously believe a lie.
How can I be okay?
He was my rock when my dad punished me as a kid.
He comforted me when my mom wasn't there.
He was my big brother too.
And I'm dying inside.
I think I'm losing it.
I keep hearing his laugh when I walk past his room.
God please bring him back.

the 23 of each month for the past year i've written to you.
expressed how much I miss you, each month I've survived without you.
Today, october 23 its been a single year since your blue eyes stared aimlessly into the distance.
Some people attempt to show me comfort saying things like "hes in a better place"
In all honestly, I would have cared for him the rest of my life
dealing with his sickness, if only he were here today.
Cancer killed the most important man in my life, single handedly tortured him until he couldn't walk
couldn't talk
the last communication we made was in the hospice bed.
Whispering "I love you, dad" our hands clasped together, you squeezed my hand unable to talk this was your "I love you, good bye"    
You waited until both your daughters weren't present in the room to let go. For 3 years we knew the day would come where we couldn't bring you home from a hospital bed. Coming home without you was something, strange. One year later, and this house is just as empty as the day we left that hospital room without you.