defrost (04.09)

i still remember freezing

and wishing the traffic light wouldn't ever turn green

your ears were cold

i could feel them when i whispered

my hands went numb

and i thought you were just too nervous

snow fell that night

you fell too, but only physically 

my feet were cold

but i guess now we know

yours were colder

it snowed today

and i think that's what reminded me

dad I owe you an apology (04.08)

I'm sorry I talk about myself

It's just that today was the first time

I haven't felt alone

In a room full of strangers

All eyes on you

Kind eyes

Listening eyes

Eyes that have seen

The same things yours have 

They've seen the same kind of pain

and denial

and felt sorry for themselves too, I bet

Dad I owe you an apology

I cried about you today

But I didn't mention everything

I cried about the pain but ignored the progress

I cried about how alone I felt but didn't mention how
you were there for me in the midst of your own suffering 

I cried about no one understanding,
yet I am the one who will never understand

I cried about how you're gone
but left out all the times I've felt you here since

Dad I owe you an apology

I cried about you today

But I need to be better at paying attention

I'm sorry I cried to you while you were suffering

I'm sorry I cried to you about your suffering

As if you could have changed it

I still cry about it

And I know that will not change

But Dad I owe you an apology

You gave me all the strength in the world

I'm just sorry I haven't figured out how to use it without you yet

where is my rescuer? (04.07)

my hope is that one of these days

you'll stop sending out lifelines--

that you'll be humble enough to put your hand in this freezing cold water

and have the strength to pull me into the boat with you

in memory (04.06)

there's too much i'm afraid to forget

his memory is not words

it is rib-crushing hugs

bad dad jokes

Jimmer's last game in the Marriott Center

the way he yelled and cheered while i danced

the funny phrases he'd say on business calls

his flyin' hawaiian shirt

Diet Coke & Sunflower Seeds

a wheezing laugh after a dirty joke

teaching me how to ride a bike

how his face always turned really red on Tower of Terror

the way he looked at you over the top of his glasses

dancing at my sisters' weddings

holding grand-babies for the first time

how he secretly loved the dog he claimed to hate

stale black licorice

Dad Rock Radio stations, and how he always sang along slightly off-key

but his memory is also

the look in his eyes when the doctor said "cancer"

a bald head and a bright smile

hours spent watching the NBA finals

all the times i heard him say goodbye

the time he told me he wasn't afraid to die

all the drives speeding on the freeway to get home, wondering if i'd get there in time

how he went from a strong man to a completely dependent frail one

the way he wept so often after his stroke

and apologized to Mom for not having the life they'd hoped for

how on that last day he put his head next to mine, and I told him "Daddy, I don't want you to suffer anymore" and he promised he wouldn't

and then he waved goodbye to us like he knew it was his time

and in his final moments of pain, he left behind the words "I love you"

He said them over and over again.

salty cheeks & bruised knees (04.02)

i've stopped feeling God the same way

but often i just feel the need to cry...

it seems like that's the only prayer of mine

He's been willing to answer lately

birthday candles

this poem was written at the end of july 2016, shortly after my dad's 59th birthday. at the time I didn't know that it really would be his last.

His hair is white and withering away
his wrinkles are quite defined
his muscle tone is fading
sometimes his voice shakes
and he cries a lot more than he used to

But he still smiles like he's building something.

Every word he speaks tells a story
always past and present tense
and I can't remember the last time I heard him utter the word "future"

Every statement he makes is a sermon;
he speaks less loudly but more boldly

And every time he says the words "thank you"
it feels like an introduction to goodbye

it's July 14th
So we gather around
singing the same old happy birthday song

And I start to count the candles

57, 58, 59...

59....

59...?

With no sign of 60 anywhere to be found.

The numbness I feel makes time slow down
and I listen to the words of the song
I look at him, smiling, happy
and I wonder what he's thinking

Is he wondering the same thing?
Does this birthday chorus not sound haunting?

A light-hearted song has never made me feel so hollow
A candle light has never looked so dim
The future has never felt this blurry

I'm trying to celebrate his life
but it's hard when I have so much fear... about his...

I just want to see candle #60.
And 61, 62, 63, 64.

Maybe I hate birthday candles
because sometimes they are tricks
Or because sometimes they go out before you get the chance to blow them--
before you get the chance to make your wish
before you get the chance to hope that it might actually come true

But maybe the reason I hate birthday candles this year

Is because a birthday wish should never be an

anything-but-death 

wish

show your work or you won't get credit

I don't know if I should ask math about us
but I know we don't make sense

8 months of lasting impressions + 1 kiss - 1 foot
& 4 inches + ~20 hours of you & I  - 2 months of
confusion - 2 months of distance + 4 months of falling
into place - 18 months to potentially fall apart

I think this is a math problem because somehow
you made this equation = those 3 words

I don't know how you got there.
and I'm going to need you to show your work
because I'm not sure you know what you're doing
How can you be sure?

3 words with 3 capital letters, tacked on the front of my name
(followed by an exclamation point) as if you really meant it.
It's as if you know that the black ink in your pen is permanent

And that's the image I can't get out of my head.