No more watching you stare out over the water, face frozen in a reflective gaze.No laughing as you dance around like The Lion King’s Rafiki. Back hunched. Elbows jutting out. Wise pout pushing out your lips.
No one to direct conversations with an invisible baton.No one to listen to the birds with me.
No blasting “Life is a Highway” with the windows down.
No deep conversations I always doubted you remembered the next day.No dad to tell me how tall my girls have grown.
Or to give me that big frog smile with your thumb up and the words “I’m proud of you” rolling off your tongue.No more worrying about you falling in the night or that you’ll say something you’ll regret.
No more sharing a love for the outdoors.
You’re five years gone. And the world feels a little less full. A little less erratic.
You were a rush of wind blowing through an open door. A hurricane and a sinking stone.
You were something to me.
Miss you, Dad.