owildandnameless

dads last voicemail to me, plus iam tongis cover of monsters by james blunt.

most of my life, i misunderstood distance with safety.
kept armslength, didnt answer you reaching out.
mistook that for sharp love once,
twice,
left home after you left first, grew distant and
returning only when i knew
your time for leaving was approaching.

i walked far, started reaching back,
swallowing hard before asking what it was like
to raise a kid you knew was not your own.
where i expected resistance, you gave way,
gave insight, reminding me i was never not your sun.
saw my picture in your wallet, knew you were proud of who i was,
even abroad, ashamed to ever question that.
but i had to ask.

asked what you thought about death. you shared what your dad
shared with you when you asked him the same question. i am where you was.
i hear you laugh, get serious, laugh again,
that stress is in living, not dying.
im picking up what you were finally able to put down,
learning comfort in your silence, accepting you are not in stress,
perhaps where all things swim again.
i know how to see you reaching for me in everything,
know how to hear you too.

i wish to exhaust you with questions still, furrow your eyebrows,
keep you hoarse on the phone, smoke another cig with you,
know more of soane, ask what life was like for you, give you mushrooms,
get an answer to the avoided question, the one im learning now:
how did you mourn your dad passing?

but i cant.
still you lay.
still i wonder.

i just wish i could pick up the phone, only to say i love you dad.
im reaching in to a void, hoping you might reach back once more,
twice more,
but life is lived forward, and i will face you one last time.
how i see it, you are not away from me, just a part in a bigger way.
there is solace in knowing youve been where i am now,
and i will be wherever you are, some tomorrow.

i will meet you there, reaching out to me,
and i will answer that call.

i love you always, rest easy dad.