One last time

 

I was able to talk with him, one last time.
One last time
I was able to see him, one last time.
One last time.

This last time, was too much of a first time.

But, at least it was the one last time.
Not the time I didn’t get to have.

He’s still alive,
Though he’s already gone.

I was able to spend 2 ½ days with him. Sitting with him and talking with him. Asking him questions, listening to his stories. It was the first time, the final time, we spoke as men with one another.

I miss him already,
while he’s still at home.

I stare at my Stone 20th Anniversary Citracado.
20 years ago, I was 14 just about to enter high school. I would be seeing him soon, not just him, but my grandmother too.

10 years was the interval between the last 2 times I saw him. 10 long years, gone in a flash.
I would say, I would think, “I should take a road trip out to Florida and spend some time with him. Stop for a few days, in between adventures, and catch up with him.”

“Has it been that long since I’ve seen him?” I’d think.  “Naw, surely not. I saw him all the time growing up, after all.”

The problem is,
I had become all grown up.

I’ve spoken with him on the phone more in the past month then I had in the last 5 years combined. I learned more about him during my recent visit then I had in my whole life combined.

I put it off and put it off. I wanted to interview him, really dig deep and learn all about him. Learn about my roots in the process. Oh I’ll do it later, I’ll do it next week, next month, next decade, next lifetime…

He’s still alive, yet all but gone.

A few days ago, I got to tell him “I love you.”  He responded, “I love you too.”

I’m so glad we had that exchange.

One last time.

Advertisement