I can’t stand that all the stories I’ll want to tell you
Will have to be whispered to the sky
Instead of into your ear
And I can’t stand that when I wrap myself in blankets of memory,
Comfort is followed by sorrow, love by missing.
And I can’t stand that I know the answer to,
“Can humans run out of tears?”
Because I googled it twice.
And I can’t stand that I had to write your obituary 30 years too soon,
And I can’t stand that I wrote it in past tense.
And I can’t stand that Alan and Laura
Is just Laura now,
And that just Laura had to buy a casket and cemetery plot,
And had to fall asleep
In a bed that’s now too big.
And I can’t stand that you won’t get to hold my children,
To toss them in the air,
And read their favorite children’s books.
And I can’t stand that my children won’t know
How it feels to be loved by you,
As I am loved by you.
And I can’t stand that you aren’t going to call
As you edit photos,
Hoping, instead of music, to listen to the sounds of your family,
Because you loved nothing more.
But, Dad, I hope you know that I would feel all of this pain,
Over and over again,
Just to have you as my dad for even one day.