An empty chair

To my father:

While holding my 1 month old daughter it occurs to me that even though you are gone she is your granddaughter. I can feel a love from you over her. Maybe it’s spirit,

Maybe it’s just something engrained in the DNA.

She looks a little like you,

in the eyes.

I can picture you in your chair at mom’s parents house. I marveled at how a chair that I was ever reminded was Grandpas magically became yours ever time you entered. You were tall, you needed the leg room. Your presence was large, it brought with it a certain reverence.

I imagine you reclining with my daughter on your chest. The way I imagine you once did with me. I remember the story’s you all told me of how my new 5 pound body fit perfectly in just one of your palms. I wonder if you’d have a favorite chair at our house. If you and mom would frequent our island. If Mike would be different,

Would he have a career?

...A family?

I wonder how you would be with Brixton. If you’d still be able to throw him up in the pool like you did with me & Mike and all our friends. I wonder what you’d look like if you’d have let the years show up on your face.

I would have been proud to introduce you to my friends

my husband,

my in laws,

my kids.

I miss you dad.

Love your daughter

And the family that’s forever yours,

even though you’ve never met.