A Too-soon Goodbye

Dear Love,

I see my unverse in your eyes: my was, my am, my will be. As though my soul had been tethered to yours long before you caught my fall on the F train Manhattan bound, I knew, in an instant, you were the one I had been searching for since mother braided my hair and lulled me to sleep with tales of valient princes and distressed damsels.

You have made me a better version of myself as I learned to view the world through your brave and generous lens: a man who believes in second chances, and third; who bears the wisdom of forgiveness and has the courage to forget; that one friend who others call past midnight to help chase the monsters out from under the bed. And through that lens you see me. The hard lines soften; my flaws fade.

It has been twenty-five years. You cradled my head through childbirth and my body through unfathomable loss. You wiped the baby’s vomit from the floor as I stood over the toilet gagging. You changed diapers while I slept, and took me to breakfast as I wept the first day of kindergarten. We watched together in disbelief as the Towers tumbled; that is the first time I saw you pray.

You have always been a loving father: sometimes a playmate in parks and swimming pools and bowling; other times the sentinel of our home, the guideposts for our daughters, the voice of reason, the Solomon in our indescision. Some spring evenings I have seen you waiting by the gate for our girls to return from a date or a dance, and you were never more handsome to me.

So as you lay here now, no strength to speak, I ask God why? Why take you without taking me? Why steal from you the chance to see our girls become strong women, loving wives, kind mothers? Why steal from me old age beside you?

One last look: I see my universe in your eyes, and as they last close, that final eclipse leaves me in forever darkness. Still our souls are tethered, so it will be easy to find you in heaven. Until then.

Love you always,