How to Survive the Loss of a Son

I care about the truth,

Unless it means,

That I have to face the fact you are gone.

I dared to enter your room

the other day.

It still feels like stepping into a graveyard

after all these years.

Your socks and shirts lay where you left them,

relics of a life that is gone.

I don’t want to move them or wash them.

Afraid that if I do, another part of you

That lingers

Will be swept away…..

diminished.

I found a book under your bed. 

“The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook”

I forgot what I had written

inside the cover when I gave it to you.

“I hope you survive.” 

It was a joke,

Not so funny in retrospect.

Not surprisingly, 

the book doesn’t address

how to survive

the loss of a

Son.

I care about the truth.

Do you remember that time

in the Sequoias?

Surrounded by some of source’s greatest creations,

none greater than you.

You longboarded in and out of cars.

You flew

while I was worried you would be injured or die.

I’m injured,

every day I die 

when I realize that the spaces

that you used to fill

are empty.

I care about the truth,

and the truth is,

I miss you dearly. 

Thank you

for fulfilling our contract

and flying so high

and riding so fast

in your short time.

I know it was your path.

I care about the truth.

Your departure allowed me to finally arrive.

And it’s so glorious.

And it’s so grand.

I never saw the truth before.

Thank you my 

Son.