I Choose

 

Maybe I write too much,

When others have moved on?

Maybe I talk too much,

Creating noise where silence should reign?

I cannot tell you how to feel,

As much as I cannot tell myself

To stop feeling.

If I could,

Would I?

Because not feeling,

Not talking,

Not writing,

Would make my memories of you

Dimmer,

Lesser,

And that would crater my heart.

So, I choose to feel,

I choose to talk,

I choose to write.

And with every word,

Every letter, every syllable,

And every sound,

My memories of you warm me,

Guide me,

Comfort me.

A world without you,

A world with no memory of you,

Is as far from comfort

As hope is from despair.

So, I write, I talk, and I feel

So that I don't forget you;

Not any part of you.

Because I am you.

I am of you, and from you.

Your love created me

As much as any DNA.

I know you are not here,

But that doesn't mean you are gone.

I know that your voice

Will now only ever whisper in my mind.

I know that although not present,

Your presence will always surround me.

Because a person only dies,

When we stop calling their name;

And so, I choose to write, to talk, and

To say your name,

Because I choose to keep you,

Living in my heart.

The Setting Sun

 

Four months ago my Dad said goodnight,

But didn't wake up.

Four months ago he slipped away,

Peacefully entering his long house.

The voice of the man who had set the bar

Against which all Fathers will forever be measured,

Would now only be heard

In the silent whispers my mind plays in stereo.

But words of consequence will always

Find a way to hit their mark.

Wisdom knows its purpose.

I had convinced myself that

The warmth of our final resolution

Would fashion a gentle landing.

But truth be told,

Those thoughts so fresh and bold,

Could only shield a heart for so long.

Loss can be felt in so many ways,

Yet every way is consuming,

Taking you to places

Where sadness reigns and rains.

No words of comfort can ever fill

The chasm that absence has created;

And yet their gentleness

Can help you build the bridge

That lifts you above the void.

I have learned to succumb

To the winding road of grief;

To conquer this emotional rollercoaster,

Emerging with the hope

That understanding will fashion healing.

His voice often whispers to me

In silent moments of reflection.

Words of strength and love.

Words that guide and nurture.

Words that drive me forward,

Onward, ever onward,

Until I will face my own setting sun.