Chicago Bears

I can’t remember the date my dad died.
I was sick and needed xrays
for my chest because I was having chest pains
an omen if there ever was one

I see memories of me sliding
down the fridge door
gasping for breath
as they rolled him out

I remember calling my Knight and him giving me what I really needed
No hugs, no cliches
Blunt matter-of-factness
Get over it
I hate you (Thank you)

I remember counting my tears on the kitchen floor
His floor, the one we never mopped right

I remember packing my feelings away
because someone had to change the bed

I remember the single blood spot
All that was left of my father
Put peroxide on it so it doesn’t stain
It did anyway

I remember laying in that bed with my mom pretending to be sleep as she stayed awake all night and did what I could not, would not do

I remember graduating and hating the sperm donor
because he sat in my dad’s rightful seat

I held the obituary up to my diploma so he could see

I curled up with his jersey
The white one
On his birthday

Scents linger longer than we think

I watched my first and last Chicago Bears game

They lost.

Go figure.

(Originally posted 1/28/10)


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