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June 27, 2020

Turbulent, is a proper adjective for a man who found solice in his silence. A man who was at arms length for all of my life- I find emptiness except for a few rather strange memories. He wasn’t that way, however, to everyone. I was a blip on the radar, benign as a being. A slight disappointment of my father- and a soft weakling to his. He had my respect, but hardly my gratitude. We lived in the same house for several years without a word spoken, which I am at fault, I know this, and I’m not sure any relationship would form if i could change the past.

The world waits, in a hush of chatter that suffocates the people of my life.

There’s no apology. Just silence. As my chest thumps with life and you exit yours. I see it. The glimpse of what seemed so important extends to a trivial plane of existence.

How my son will bury me, and I only pray that he has anticipated my death within years of expectations to finally see my burden perish in a flurry of love and a guilty relief that he can move on with his life without my burden.

I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to really know you.

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