It has been a year since my father passed
a year since I passed his house
on the way to my mother’s
a year since she called me
hysterical
a year since we saw his collapsed body
on the floor
a year since I did CPR
unsuccessfully
a year since we watched the paramedics
work on his lifeless form
a year since I followed the ambulance
to the hospital
a year since I arrived
too late.

It’s been a year since the texts
the calls
the community outreach
and the sweeping up
of his apartment.
It’s been a year since
I took off those overalls.

It’s been a year that’s moved both slow and fast
a year since we sailed half mast
a year since the die was cast
a year since I saw him last
a year since my father passed

and a day
since my mother reminded me
what today would be.

I’m sorry, dad.
Maybe I’ll remember
next year.