It's funny how life goes on and days go by and you don't cross my mind. I mean, you're there, always ready to leap to life in a story, but not in the forefront. It's easy to push it back because I didn't see you every day.
Then some days, you're a whisper. You're a song on the radio, a scent in the breeze, a daydream at a familiar place.
Then... then, there are days like today, when you should be there. When all of the family is there. You should be laughing, singing and making us dance. You should be telling your stories and looking impatient not letting anyone know you're having fun. You should be cooking and smiling and hugging your son. And it hits me like a ton of bricks, you're gone.
I can see you in photos, and recall fading memories of moments that have passed but nothing is sufficient. I want another day. A day at the springs, in the mountains, at your dinning room table waiting for dinner. A day to mend fences, a day to aggravate you, a day to laugh at your bad jokes.
Life isn't fair, and death certainly isn't either.
to the moon and back,
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