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If you were still here, your days would be numbered.
But that means nothing to the number of days you’ve been gone.
I think of the thousands of times I could have heard your voice,
seen your face. Or the thousands of times you could have heard
my children laugh, seen them smile, seen the sun rise one more time.
Not all has been darkness since you left us, but the light
you would have brought is unforgiving in its absence, your absence.
Eclipsed, you had robbed from you the one true sunset you deserved.
It’s been 25 years since my father died, way too early at 60.
The challenge for Day Four of NaPoWrMo 2019 is to write a poem of sadness, achieved through simplicity, with the suggestion of a sonnet for compactness. Mine is short, though not necessarily simple, and definitely not a sonnet.
rivrvlogr 
It’s lovely nonetheless Ken. It’s 23 years next month since I lost my Dad. Always with me though.
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Thank you, Di. Yes, always. I understand, fully.
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Beautiful, Ken. My father died very young, before my sons were born, so this stikes a real chord.
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Thank you, Sue. My daughter was just one at the time, but her brothers spent a lot of time with him; the youngest was almost 10 and the eldest 14. When I read the eulogy, I included a poem for him written by the eldest.
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That’s lovely, ken. I’m glad they had a chance to know him. My father was just forty-five and I was living in France when he died.
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Roots. Grounded. Memory. Love. Grief.
Thank you.
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And thank you, Daniel.
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Heart-felt… and a beautifully poignant last line, Ken.
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Thank you, Steve.
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Sad, but the love you have for your family burns bright here.
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Thank you.
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Very moving work, this; touching and very well-constructed. Salute.
I spent several hours at my favorite café this morning, working the next draft of a poem I started about a week ago about my own father’s (2003) passing (and his father’s and grandfather’s as well) by way of coming to terms with my own increasingly obvious aging and related health issues.
Blah blah blah. enough about me. Your work, here, is mind-blowingly good. Thanks for sharing.
PS (Friendly edit: you don’t need that apostrophe in the 1st line)
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Oh man, Ron. Thanks! One of my faults when writing on the fly is reading what I wanted to say and not reading what I said. Fixed it.
And thank you. I’m well past my father’s age and hope my sell by date hasn’t been printed yet.
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Beautiful poem Ken and so full of love towards your father and life.
It is a richness to miss him so but you pay for that with longing and pain.
I love all the things you tell him he missed, yes, your children and I feel also
your companionship.
Yes, I have also been there, it hurts.
miriam
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Thank you, Miriam.
I have memory issues – always have – but he’s as sharp and clear in my mind as he was 30 years ago.
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Very sweet. I like it, a lot!
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🙂 Thank you.
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A powerful poem about love and loss. I’m blessed to still have my parents with me, but this is a reminder to cherish each day, each sunrise and sunset. Beautifully written ❤️
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Thank you, kindly.
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Sad, touching, and lovely, Ken.
I had thought about writing about my dad for the prompt today, but I didn’t–so it’s like you wrote what I feel, too. My dad was older, but my girls were still young, so he never got to see them grow up.
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Thank you, Merril. Knowing our fathers did not have that opportunity to witness and love feels like an empty space, but I feel it can be filled by passing on what we knew and felt about our fathers to our children.
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Yes, that’s true.
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My father died just a few years after his own father. Neither of my parents got to know my younger daughter, and she has no memory of my mother except as an Alzheimer’s patient. The loss cannot be measured.
Just beautiful. (K)
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Thank you, Kerfe. The best we can do is share what we know. Love can offer a powerful lesson.
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Clearly personal, and yet applicable across many lives with lost fathers/mothers … I especially like “the light you would have brought is unforgiving in its absence, your absence.” … recognition of lingering loss.
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Thank you, Jazz, especially regarding that line.
Being a prompt response, I wrote this rather quickly, but that line took some time – until I realized that “unforgiving” was the word I needed.
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Poignant poem, Ken…. I can relate.
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