December 24, 2005

My Dad Died

My dad died twenty-three years ago; and I just realized. He’s not going to suddenly appear; make a visit — he’s dead! My step-dad told me; then I went to my room; then I didn’t think about it any more. They put him in a box; I saw it; I think he was inside; and they burned it up. "Is there anything I can do?" someone asked; "No." I responded in confusion; with hindsight: "hug me." What’s an eight-year-old to do when he sees that box? A dozen memories are all I have: I checked. This is grief; the time to cry is now.