All of them stand around,
crying,
murmuring words of sympathy
and understanding
at my loss,
and what they consider theirs.
And though I know they are well-meaning,
I have to fight down the urge
to scream at them.
"You cry?" I want to shout.
"You have grief?"
He was my father!
Whatever you are feeling,
multiply that by 100,
then add that I couldn't say goodbye,
that he was the parent I was close to,
that it was his choice to leave,
to not be here anymore...ever,
to not be there at my graduation,
or my wedding,
or to meet his grandkids.
Add all of that up,
with the fact that he was MY father,
not someone else's,
and you will still have
only a fraction of my pain."
But I just stand there,
dry-eyed,
acknowledging their offerings
with automatic thanks.
I, with perhaps the most reason to cry,
have no more tears left to shed.

01/15/2001

Posted on 09/20/2002
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