The thing about it is...

Dad had a rasa. A flavor. He died yesterday and my mouth aches. How odd is that? Maybe because as infants the first things we know we put in our mouths. And this is the first place I felt, I absolutely knew, I would never sense Father again. 

I'm so far away from home now. I won't be seeing him in color, that body, with these eyes. When I finally arrive he will be gray. Black and white. Stark. Off. Finished. Daddy is finished. But I'm not finished! My life is still in color.

Daddy was warm. Hard, but warm. His skin was scaly and rough, his hands cracked from unceasing work. He slept on a couch next to a space heater most of his life. When I get there he won't be warm, and I will never ever feel him soft, not like I imagined he might have been when he let go and died. Secretly I wanted to feel him, right after he died, to see if then, he might have let go of his shoulders, and the torque in his neck. He was pliable for about 5 hours when we were last together. It was amazing. Now, he will be harder than I ever knew him to be.

I'm terrified to walk into his house. He had a smell. Daddy's smell. Salty. Sharp. It will still smell like him when I get home. But I won't be able to find him. Tri, his dog, must be beside himself. His nose full of his friend, his father, his companion. He isn't able to find him now. What can we do to comfort Tri?

Oh bullshit I say, to all those people who tell me now he is with me. Now, your daddy can be with you, always. Your daddy is in a better place, Bullshit. Daddy was an embodied experience. Visceral. Real. Interactive. Responding. My senses are severed. I won't ever sense Daddy with my eyes, my skin, my mouth, my nose, and not my ears! Not with this body. Not in this way. 

The thing about it is Daddy's voice motivated me, irritated me, infuriated me, saddened me, made me laugh, made me think. A word of praise from him and I felt bliss. This is one of the reasons I'm doing all this, this is a reason to try so hard. Dad's proud of me. Dad thinks I'm doing a good job. I will do this to show Dad. Don't worry about me Dad, I'm not wasting my time. I'm making the most of it all. I will show you a life well lived, Dad.

My whole life, till now, I always knew where Daddy would be. Place: Nephi, Utah; white house, on the corner. Politics: Liberal humanist, fiscal conservative. Religion: Humanitarian. Pleasures: Seeking knowledge, and a little bluelight, now and again. Romance: More trouble than it's worth. Joy: Tri, oh, and the doings of his progeny. 

Now I can't find him. My Dad is dead! My Dad is dead! 

I heard his voice last night, I was trying to sleep. I kept hearing The thing about it is...The thing about it is...The thing about it is...

It wasn't his voice mind you. Dad wasn't speaking to me, offering me comfort. It was a memory. That phrase is this the phrase I can most clearly remember. I can still hear it, just the way he would say it. The thing about it is...I can form my mouth around those words. I can taste them.