twenty

 I remember those first days without you (and mom) when we found out in July that you had died in May. Today, 20 years ago you left this earth. 

That same day was the last time we saw mom. I don’t know if she saw you that day. I don’t know if anyone was with you as you took your last breath. 

They said you didn’t want us to see you like that. I appreciate it now. But then. I would have given anything for a Time Machine to see you again. How dare they decide for us that we wouldn’t see you, say goodbye. Say hello. Show you and tell you how we’d turned out. Our jobs, our cars, our lives. 

Twenty years, dad. I love you forever.