16

It’s the hour.
Sleep is elusive as I watch the minutes roll by, seeing again in my mind’s eye the last second you breathed
The years in between count for days in this moment
Or maybe weeks. But surely it hasn’t been a lifetime (short as it may be) since I last saw you.

When the last grain of sand drops to its heap I’ll forget you
The dead cannot mourn or weep but they should not be forgotten.
I won’t turn away from the memory tonight.

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word
Daddy’s gone away now, so take away the hurt
If the sorrow never leaves you, please remember me -
I’ll break apart the hourglass if you’ll just remember me.

I should tell you that your grandson is past my waist and looks me deep in my eyes when he asks of you.
He dreams of saving the world already - seems to be a family failing -
But for now it’s with ninja swords and superpowers.
Soon I am sure we will catch him one day, staring into the deep, and then we will know he has begun his quest to dream.

For now I’ll enjoy the milk moustaches and chocolate stains on his shirt
And the purple marker he somehow got behind his ear.
Forgive me if mine is not a somber wake. I’m not keeping vigil for you, you see.
I’m awake for me.