Two Years On

Two years today. The crisp reality of that morning remains vivid.

Dad, I can go for a day now without thinking about you. What never fades however is the sense of growth, experience, life-force that somehow entered my being that morning.

I was holding your hand as you died. I felt you go. It's as though the last movement you made, a nervous spasm of your entire body, was in fact a transfer of spirit from your being to mine .

You live on in me. It's good to have you so close. I still long to share with you my "accomplishments" only because they would impress the shit out of you. And like the lowliest puppy, I lived for your acknowledgement and praise.