Acceptance, a poem

I Cannot Accept You're Gone

My mind knows...

it was told, in a moment

it can never take back

But knowing isn't the same

as believing

and my heart

never got the message

or got it

and threw it away

Tomorrow is coming

whether I'm ready or not

and I keep almost reaching

for my phone

to tell you about it

the way I always did

Next month, San Diego

your city, not mine

the one you picked

the life you were building

Instead I'm unpacking boxes

your friends packed carefully

by hand

after you were gone

taping shut what you never got to

shipping home

what was left

of a life

still in motion

when it stopped

I open each one

not knowing what I'll find

your handwriting maybe

on a label

someone else's grief

folded in with yours

carried by people

who loved you too

and didn't know

what else to do

with your things

except send them home

Thanksgiving is coming

and there's a chair

I don't know what to do with

Do I set it

Do I leave it empty

Do I say your name out loud

at a table that already knows

and still needs to hear it

Christmas is coming

and Robin and I will stand at the tree

holding ornaments

we picked out together

all three of us

that year

We'll turn them over in our hands

same as always

and wait

for your voice

to say something

about the one you picked

the way you always did

The room will be quiet

where you used to fill it

These aren't just days on a calendar

they're doors

and you were supposed to walk through

every one of them with me

Logic says you're gone

Logic says the chair stays empty

Logic says San Diego, Thanksgiving, Christmas

will all arrive

exactly on schedule

without you

But logic has never once

held a father's heart

and asked it

to agree

So I'll keep moving forward

somehow, some way

And I will do all of it

carrying both

the knowing

and the refusal to know

Both true

Both mine

Both you

Every future day

still has your fingerprints on it

even the ones

you'll never see