an empty hand

he held my hand

as a child

he gave me gentle hugs

and gentler smiles

he listened

to my first words

and in my youth
he gave me his wisdom

to use

to discard

to mock
he cared for me in ways
I never understood

until parenthood was mine

but as an adult
I ignored the greying hair
and his fragile ways

for to me he was immortal
a man who would never leave

and then one morning

I looked upon a giant
whittled down to a fragile man
asleep
never to awake again

and in that moment of loss
I felt the fullness of his heart
and the emptiness in my hand

(For my Dad)