By Silvia Uribe
(In honor of my father, Antonio)
I can see death, I can feel death
But I can't do anything about it.
I can hear it speak through my old man's lips
But I can't understand it.
It's like being acquainted but not really knowing
I haven't invited this, but I'm hosting it.
It's pain, and cry, and more pain
It's watching through his eyes, observing through mine,
It's listening, suffering, resisting, hoping, accepting,
At times it feels like welcoming
Hallucinations? Visions? What?
A deeper understanding of what was, and now is not
Of what is about to be
Indicating with his hand the way he's going
Reaching in, and out
I feel like talking, but I don't wish to interrupt
A sacred process, nothing else
My usually loud voice has nothing to say
I said a little before
There is no need for more
We never needed too many words
To completely understand each other
My ‘I love you very much' and
His ‘thank you'
This time, were enough
I know now that death is solitude
For everyone involved
For mom and I
It is dark and lonely tonight
But eventually, we will find the light.
Written the night dad died, 5 years 4 months and 27 days ago.
He would have been 82 on April 9th. I will always miss him.