Stumbling

It troubles me to think of the miles I’ve walked in my father’s shoes

Walked, stumbling, clumsy, uncertain

What pains me though, are the ones I’ll never travel

The miles he walked alone, fearful, in the dark.

My father is dead
He died while I was in a hotel in San Francisco
Drinking red wine and eating chocolate truffles
His last breath slipped from his body
As I slipped into a drunken haze
Happy, blissful, I was finally living
As he lay dying
There’s an irony to that
I have yet to put my finger on it
“I give up”
That’s the last thing he said to me
Text to me, and I breathed a sigh of relief
Finally I was free. Free of the pestering
Free to just be, live my life without any worry
Certain that he’d be there when I needed him to be
I just needed a minute to breathe
All these minutes are too much for me