redoing it

pigeons followed him

as he walked on

little bread crumbs

that he threw out

gobbled greedily

then one day

he stopped

having faith

in himself

his pigeons

and he said:

"fly"

see you soon

I've heard so many anecdotes, so many stories. So many words about you.

It's as if the process of giving up saw completion that Friday night.

I'm guessing you made it all happen. You made it all come true. That Friday night.

Some hours later, you were gone. And gone for good.

Leaving behind a million thoughts. Some happy shiny memories. From a childhood so far away. And some regrets.

And. A void.

A hundred blessings rise up, stretching their arms, trying to reach you. Hearts here hoping that wherever you are, you're in a better place. Breathing. Happy.

It's as if time has come to a stand still. Where everybody is quiet, all around, absorbing you and your words. Revering. Remembering. Some happy shiny memories, and some regrets.

Most of all, I see people in inertia, loved. By you. So so loved.

Your face smiles upon all of us. Simple.

Your words are read out for people to hear. Most of us are half-listening, half lost in thoughts. From a summer years ago. Or the last conversation they could have.

Larger than life, they say. Surreal, I say.

An ocean on fire, a mountain standing tall, ripe mustard in a vast field, and a calm river but ever-joyous.

No matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to put into words what you are. To me. To us.

Thank you for being my father.

I hope I've been a good daughter. Because for me, it's enough to be able to call myself your daughter.