11 years has passed and it has yet to become easier.
Each year that passes I expect the blow of father's day to be lessened.
But the opposite occurs. I get hurt more.
Each year that passes grow to be years that I'll never again see you walk through my front door.
Each year that passes accumulates to missed time and more salty tears.
I promised myself at 16 that I would not cry anymore,
But I broke that promise the following year.
Can you hear me when I talk to you?
Can you see me? Did you see all the obstacles I battled through?
Do you see mom? How see is now five years clean.
Those eleven years were riddled with evictions, prison sentences, anguish, hungry nights, and very very cold winters.
Those 11 years were also full of victories, rejoicing, jubilee, diplomas, new cars, and job advancements.
Can you see us from the other side?
Can you see that through our defeat came learning, victory and pride.
I won't ever forget you.
I won't ever forget your scarce laugh and peace when you said that you were proud of me.
I won't ever forget the day that I saw you get buried.
It was drawn/etched to the fabric of my memory.
I won't ever forget the time you made food out of thin air.
I never got to ask you how you did that trick.
Today my heart feels like a brick,
But I find peace in that we(my family and I)have each other on this hard day.
R.I.P, big fella.