Today is my son's 17th birthday. In four days the third anniversary of my father's death will arrive. Thinking of him. Haven't posted in over a year. I have a set of poems in "The Father Poems" category. This is the newest.

Silver Cup: The Father Poems

Days are dripping down

Slipping softly to the time you left.

That ringing phone,

The voice that said,

“Your father died last night."

And I had just talked to you

At nine o’clock--

Your voice trailing off to say goodbye,

Have a wonderful week,

I’ll call you to let you know

The itinerary for our visit in May.

Seventeen years ago today

My first son came into the world.

Your voice on the phone then

Joyful, calming, proud.

I still have this little crumpled card

With all the numbers of all the people

I called that day to announce his arrival.

Don’t name him Elliot, you said.

He’ll get beat up all the time with that name.

But Dad, T.S., what about T.S.?

It didn’t matter, you were adamant,

And so I have a Daniel

With your name in the middle

To bring him

Strength of generations.

Soon after his birth, a small package arrived

On my doorstep.

My silver baby cup--

Tarnished, even dented

From thirty-four years

Of tumbling through

Our bumped and separate lives.

I imagined the cup

Packed in you bags

Sitting on your shelves

Held in your hands

A small anchor

In the storm of your heart.

It is only days now--

The anniversary,

The lump in the throat,

The ache in the gut,

The empty place

Shaped by the absence of your voice.

I don’t know

How to say the words

I miss you.

Those words aren’t big enough

To fill the space you left behind.