19 years ago today, my Dad died. I still think it’s weird to say that. It doesn’t sound right in my mouth. Gets caught in my throat. He had so much life left to live. Not that he didn’t live. He lived. He made the most out of the life he had. He was happy. But still….far too young to die. I have a million memories of him but one inspired a poem. It’s a little scary putting a poem I’ve written out to the world. Feels exposing and quite different than a blog post, but it captures my relationship with my Dad in just a few simple words.
Two worms can make a fishing trip
When you’re six and in a boat
With your Dad.
Even though you have to pee
And the worms make you cry.
Even when he throws his hands up.
And sings you a song.