Father's Day

It's midnight -
Father's Day 2002.

And even though
we haven't been together
for Father's Day in years
we live too far apart
and even though
I know it's just a day
like any other day -
this year
it's all the more poignant
because it may be your last.
In fact,
I'm quite sure
it will be.

What will I do
without a father
on Father's Day?

I made your card this year
like I used to as a child.
I was able to put
just the right message on it
say just what I wanted to say
with lots of "xoxoxoxox's"
at the end.
I sealed the envelope
put the stamp on it
addressed it
and then it hit me -
like a ton of bricks
that I might not ever
get to do this again.

What will I do
without a father
on Father's Day?

Later today we'll call you
just like we always do.
Only this year
we'll call you at the hospital.
And we'll say we love you
and you'll say you love us
and we'll each be wondering
how many more times
we have left to say that.

What will I do
without a father
on Father's Day?

I wish I could tell you
again and again
how much you mean to me
how afraid I am of your leaving
of your not being here any more
of not having a father.
But I'd be telling you
for me
not for you -
so I hold my tongue
and hope you know.

What will I do
without a father
on Father's Day?

What will I do
without a father?

* * * * * *

From my ""Cancer, Dying, and Death Poems" " folder.