It’s been a week of years since I saw you last.
An eternity on some days, a mere blink on others. Two thousand five hundred fifty-seven days since your passing, seven years and a day since we said farewell, the needs of life pulling me away from your side one day too soon.
You weren’t perfect. You had your demons and your darkness like all men.
There were those years where not much passed between us, falsely secure that time wasn’t our foe.
But time kept slipping, slipping toward a future without you, without my dad.
Like you, I am far from perfect, and fall far short of the man you were.
But I love and miss you…
I wish I had stayed to see you cross the river.