It comes in waves
Some days sitting quietly in the corner refusing to leave,
like the dust bunny you missed in your floor-sweeping catharsis
or whining and buzzing in your ear,
like a mosquito that will bite you repeatedly before you squash it.
Some days, though, it hits you square in the chest,
like the airbag that deployed when your heart failed
and you crashed into that telephone pole.
I still haven’t been able to bring myself to drive by that pole.
You should be here.
The spring musical brought your ghost back,
although you’d never really left.
Remembering the year before last,
when you’d been too ill to sit through the show
so I recorded bits and parts so you could see the rest.
Remembering last year,
when you’d brought your new girl friend and her son.
You were so full of hope for your future.
Thinking about this year,
when even the sell-out crowds
couldn’t mask that your seat was vacant.
Tonight was Honor’s Night.
As our daughter was honored
I watched for us both
and chuckled to myself knowing
you’d be bored through all but those 90 seconds
when she walked to the stage to receive her award.
But you’d have sat through the entire two hours,
like the sport you always were.
I look toward the near future and know
there are happy-hard days to come.
Our son’s school musical.
Graduation.
Our daughter’s 18th birthday.
College.
Endings and beginnings all over again.
Tonight with my bedroom door shut tightly,
so the kids won’t worry,
I sit pouring words onto paper
as single tears make their way down my cheek.
The kids are good.
Tonight.
I watch them closely.
It comes in waves
Today was a mosquito day,
but I only got bit a few times
before I squashed it.
~ Mk Michaels, 2014
