One year ago today I got the call.
This lady that I didn't even know
Had called to tell me that my father'd died.
She said the words with genuine
Concern for me - then paused.
The tell-tale pause that indicates
Not knowing what to say.
The knowing pause that realized that
Words would mist within the void
Inside of me.

I thanked her for the call
And for the care they'd given Dad.
And then I put the phone back on the wall
And cried.

I loved my dad. I watched him die
For many years. In pieces.
First his mind, and then his body,
Watching as he struggled consciously
At first, instinctively at last.
And then he died.

And when he died I felt the pain of death
Within my heart.
A stabbing, wrenching pain
That couldn't be suppressed.
And then it left. And then it came again
As though I'd just been told anew
That Dad had died.

It came again today.
And so I cried.