I wish my Dad was still with me. I can conjure him in my mind, holding his pipe in his hand, with a whimsical smile, chuckling at some joke. He was not a touchy-feely type Dad since he held his feelings tightly inside but he used to poke my little belly as I tried to run past him in his easy chair without him tickling his target. I knew intuitively that he wanted to touch me and love me and this was his way of showing it.

Recollections of my contractor father taking me by his building sites make my eyes well up. I felt so grown up to be picked by him to spend this time alone with him, sharing what he loved. To this day, I am fascinated by real estate and that is one of his legacies.

When I was older no longer living at home, I would come home to visit my parents. My Dad would wait up with me until my mother had gone to bed and we would talk about little chunks of things that held importance to us both, sharing little slices of life.

I have to admit that my Dad had a few flaws. He used to drink heavily, starting in the late morning and continuing throughout the day. By the evening, his speech became a little garbled but he was always so kind with never an angry word. I didn’t realize until I was older that he drank way more than most folks because it was something I grew up with. It just was and I accepted it into my realm of being.

I could always depend on my Dad to do the right and compassionate thing. When I was nine preparing for my birthday party later that day, a man drove up to our house and opened his car trunk to show our dead Dalmatian dog which he had accidentally run over. Imagine the horror of a small child seeing her beloved dog lying in the trunk of a car. I cried for hours right up to the time my party was about to begin. I hadn’t known where my father had gone, thinking he was working but I knew he would be back for my birthday party.

He arrived home, cradling a Dalmatian puppy in his arms, presenting it to me

with all of his deep emotions showing on his face. I will never forget that moment in time because I cherish the memory and the warmhearted look on Dad’s face. I knew for certain that my Dad loved me and this was proof of my awareness.

My Dad was a child prodigy, starting high school when he was 11 after skipping three grades. He had a pushy mother who started him playing piano when he was three. It was possible that his high level of stress lowered his immune system because he contracted a severe case of rheumatic fever which necessitated bed rest for over a year. Because of this illness, he had a bad heart for the rest of his life. I never remember him doing anything active but he was cerebral and an avid reader. He used to sit on a chair with his book with my mother at our lake cottage, watching us swim and carouse, but he never joined us.

When Dad became a little older, he went into the hospital for simple cataract surgery. A massive heart attack during surgery took his life. The shock and belief that this didn’t have to happen has never left me. He left me the gift of kindness and love which will be with me always. I still sometimes see a man walking down the street with similar shape of his head or his little cowlick curling down his forehead and wish it were my Dad. But he is here in my heart where he will remain.

It came undone,

Then, there were none,

Save one,

Me.

Sitting, on a silent peak,

Reaching for the stars,

Asking for heaven's guidance,

And advice for all of man.

The wind it blew,

A mighty howl,

Fiercely tossing me side to side,

Yet I waited, undeterred, for the smallest of signs.

From flowers blooming,

To leaves dying,

I counted the years flitter by,

Until, no longer could I listen to the silence of the skies.

I screamed,

I shouted,

Until my voice gave way,

Only quietness gave me a reply.

I ran away,

From that place,

Defeated,

Tears now in my eyes.

Into the world,

Of man, I found myself,

Wishing,

For the silence, on the hill.

Yet, there was no returning,

For it was pillaged,

By the greedy hand,

Of man.

don't let your

pride

stop you

from

correcting

your mistake.

Writing.

Writing is freeing.

Otherworldly.

An adventure.

Reading.

Reading is an escape.

Unearthly.

A break.

We read and write.

They give us another place to go.

Another world to live in.

Another place to be alive.

Here's to the writer;

the ones who make our false worlds.

And here's to the readers;

the ones that make writers keep writing.

there is freedom

in not caring,

not counting my steps,

not planning ahead,

in thinking

that

whatever will be,

will be.

Life goes on.

Or so they say.

You learn to live,

But never forget.

You look to the stars,

And hope you'll find peace.

But you struggle to calm your heart.

You try to let go,

And hope for a fresh start.

You open your eyes,

And hope you'll see light in the dark.

You quiet your mind,

And hope you'll finally hear,

The voice of the one you lost.

...

But in the darkness only comes pain,

And the voices of the demons who know you by name.

You resist the temptation to give in.

Because the faith you once had,

Has begun to wear thin.

You pick yourself up,

A little weaker than you were before.

With the little hope you have,

You prepare for what tomorrow has in store.

There's something strange in the air tonight,

I can't quite seem to place it.

I'm ready to feel the heat now,

But something is still adjacent.

I can see the flames in his eyes,

I can taste the charcoal on his tongue.

I have to try it at least once,

I won't be forever young.

Pulling, pushing, running fast.

Daunting memories rushing past.

Slow the clock, slow my heart.

Feel the embers fall apart.

Stop, turn and look now,

He's leaving again.

Do something, don't extinguish me,

Don't become what you have been.

Smoke fills my chest now,

Dry eyes searching for something solid.

Cold sweat over eyebrow,

Empty handfuls are haunted.

Where have you gone boy,

Why aren't you feeling?

I'm calling his name,

The temperature spikes through the ceiling.

Ashes at my feet spark,

As the lonely sweep the streets.

I look and beautiful is the dark,

He never played for keeps.