Dear Dad

A single shot
shattered the stillness
of dawn.
It stole silence


purity



peace.

A single tear
wet mother’s eye
as she bore the news
with the strength of
A Widowed Woman.

For that morning
at seven forty-eight
marker her rebirth.
no longer wife, mother, lover
now: widow, parent, loner.

A single thought
crossed my mind:
Is he coming back?
...or is this for good?

And after that,
my feelings changed.
Sadness faded.
Anger flamed.
Pity waned, and
only love remained.

Regret, remorse, denial
all ran their courses.
I blamed it on everyone,
including you.

I feared to admit
that it didn't affect me—
not for lack of understanding
but for lack of loss.

Because you were only there
to yell...

Mr. Bipolar Dad.
Excusable? Perhaps.
Bearable? Never.

Yes, I love(d) you, dad.
but only as
an obligation.