Letter to my late father

Well, they didn’t hang Mike Pence.

I know you were worried,

for a moment, anyway, before your

thoughts turned to grander, more magnificent things.

One last playful joke

And then a deep peace and release

from that terrible pain.

How could the undertakers ever know

what precious cargo they were carrying?

We stood and watched as they took you away,

leaving behind an inexpressible void

where all your love and warmth once was.

Trump got impeached and acquitted (again)

And Joe actually managed to get inaugurated, can you believe it?

The sun poured down on Kamala when she took her oath

and oh wow! We had our first female VP.

It seemed like a hopeful day

The Obamas were there, and Bernie in his mittens,

And luminous Amanda Gorman, calling us to rise.

Then praise be to science, we all got vaccinated, Mom first in line.

The crocuses, daffodils, and rhodos,

Snowdrops, apple blossoms, and lilacs,

Roses, cherries, and milkweed all bloomed.

It was bone dry all spring long

and warm enough for the

honeybees to come out early.

I swear they pollinated every single blossom

On our sour cherry tree.

Then a bright little bluebird, the color of the sky,

Moved into my birdhouse

Just as you promised.

Good thing you reminded me to clean it out.

Was that you?

You should see the girls--they wear your clothes all the time.

Ruby trots up the street in those humungous sweatpants

And Clara drowns in your enormous coats

Maybe their warmth helps wrap up the sadness.

Oh, the poignant pain of that final farewell

When you told them to “have a nice life”!

Molly still looks for you in the farmhouse kitchen,

and Shadow still waits in your chair.

Grandma still waters the high tunnel,

And collects the eggs,

And does the ten thousand things

While searching for the pieces of her shattered soul.

We planted lots of the seeds you bought,

but mostly the weeds choked them out.

Still, sunflowers rose from the earth unbidden,

their golden, seed-laden heads bowed low

smiling upon our efforts.

And the swallows and hummers

And bluebirds returned.

Dave kept everything running

Liv kept everything beautiful

Lyle kept everything mowed.

I sat under the old walnut tree

And let my heart wail.

Birthdays came and went,

And a new zip line went up!

We keep the candle burning on the little shrine

where your ratty hat hangs and

the orchid prepares its new buds.

It’s fall now, and the sky is impossibly blue

The marigolds and mums are covered in bees,

And the tomatoes and grapes are red and purple on their vines.

I used your elephant garlic in our lunch today,

And the apples you pressed,

The tomatoes you juiced,

The raspberries you picked,

The colcannon you cooked,

still lie snug in our freezers.

Incredible that you continue to nurture us

even as you begin your new life somewhere else.

Do you remember us?

Everything is still crazy here--

Jeff Bezos went to space,

And 700,000 of us have died of that virus

Can you believe it?

D.C. is still a madhouse,

And refugees are still being heartlessly denied.

Lyle and Clara are in high school now!

The schools actually reopened, and we’re

Bumping along just fine…I guess.

For five beautiful minutes back in July,

Things felt normal again, and everyone gathered

To laugh and cry and remember you.

Singing and weeping and holding each other,

we cast your ashes aloft in the wind and tucked them in among

the roots of the asparagus and rhubarb,

strawberries, sunflowers, comfrey, and grapes.

But none went in the river,

because Mom did not want you

to float away.