Dad

It's a freight train moment
When I realise you are gone.
Eyes up, marching on
Like daddy's little soldier and then I remember,
There's no more eating pistachios in the kitchen,
Finishing the Christmas port in june;
You've left me
And I miss you.
A lost child in adulthood.
A rite of passage we all must bear
And at the age of 35
There's nothing more that I would wish for
Than that you were here.
Alive and well and giving me hell
About the crossword,
Or some other small complaint.
But here we are.
I wish I'd told you that I loved you more
Or that I was proud of who you were.
I wish I'd held your hand more often
And spent time listening to your laugh.
Instead, I shed tears here in the dark
And berate myself for time
Spent carelessly without you.
A father's loss is keenly felt,
A daughter's lot, half lost.