Daddy, I am all here. There is room in this moment for only us and I am finally all here and I know, now, that is what you wanted, hoped for. In less than one hour I will reach the uncleared trail, the unlearned trail. I will step quietly into 1:44 p.m. this day, the first minute you never reached knowing I will be on my own in a way like never before. Not alone like never before, on my own like never before; there is a difference.
I know as I stand with you here that this will be my place of rest too when my time ends. We will, as always, be good great company. And oh, how I miss you, still miss you, always miss you.
You were ripped off, Daddy, dying at 55 like you did. Ripped off. And that she let you died alone Mommy did. Home with us in Nyack leaving you along in that iron lung in St. Luke’s Hospital, telling us, me, the doctors said you wouldn’t know if anyone was there anyway. Leaving you alone so foreign to me. She had her wounds, Daddy. The deepest? She could not see herself and thus could not love herself which is why she ended herself. Sad, Daddy, sad.
I am all here with you, Daddy. Always with you I can be all here. Now, finally, in sober life, I can be all here anywhere, and always with you.
I will soon be in the day and days you never met. On the uncleared trail walking point. It was you there until now. There is an aloneness to this I’ve never experienced. It is, in a way, scary. Yet, in another way, it emboldens me.
We are soon to that minute, Daddy, that last minute you were here. This time you are not alone, nor am I. I am all here now, loving you. Always loving you.