His void maps out the shape of things long gone,
Like space in a forest when tall trees fall,
It will remain.
A break in the canopy to let the sky pour through.
A world I seldom go to now,
But, still, it gave me strength to know it there.
Many have fallen now,
The forest floor a litter.
Complex emotions, vines and scars and tangled metal of old machines.
A place of bitterness and regret
But that tree was one that stood clear and strong,
I am sad.
He was the last of them and in truth was the closest person to my father.
I miss them both as he takes a thread it is no longer possible to hold.
Old friend, I am sorry not to have seen you another time before you passed.
I thank you for giving my son a sense of context as you did; for being my father's arm around him.
You connected him to something I had feared lost.
I hold a grief for him as he loved you.
For the silent deeds and quiet ways your kindness touched our lives.
Missed opportunity lingers in my heart.
Thank-you for the gifts you did not understand I sought.