My mother asked me
if I was reliving last year.
I told her no.
This is the first anniversary
of my father’s death.
I was there
(sort of)
when it happened.

I am not reliving the experience
but I’m thinking about it
thinking if I’ve learned anything
if I’m any different
than I was before.
I’m wondering if I’m sad
or haunted
or hunting for answers
that would complete me.
(I think I am
but that’s no different than I was
367 days ago).

I’m hoping
I have something to say about it
as I live for expression
and would like to be profound
or funny or
perhaps moving
(in some profoundly funny way).
I think I’ve still got somewhere to go
before I get there.
I’m not feeling enough
about what happened
not thinking about it enough.
Am I perhaps
in my own way
as dead as dad?

Maybe I just didn’t like him that much.
Maybe I’m shallow.
Maybe grief is a process
and I’ve still got a ways to go
before I get there
(Maybe
I am reliving it
a little).