I never got to say goodbye.
You were asleep on the couch,
and I had to leave early.
I thought you had to wait for a package,
you'd still be home in the afternoon.
I needed that comfort of your presence
just one more time. Needed your
your burnt chef's hands.
But five-thirty came and I asked our mother,
and she said you were gone.
I did not feel your last embrace,
could not kiss your stubbled cheek.
All day I had the hope of a farewell,
but now I find myself crying
soil stained, glittering, mascara rivers.
I go through all your clothes
and wrap myself in your corduroy jacket.
I keep my mind inside my head
with your fuzzy knit beanies,
keep my heart in my chest
with blue sailor sweaters.
I still the shaking in my hands
while wearing the leather bracelet
you made for me just today.
You said you would make it, and you did.
You always keep your promises,
about bracelets, and about phone calls,
and about when you have to move on.
I am surprised I am so calm about this.
but I think Christmas will come
sooner than it feels.
For right now, just for now,
you feel so far away from me.
For right now, always, and forever, however,
I will need you to be here to tell me
when I am overreacting.
I need you to be here to tell me
that I don't always need you.