Home is not a place

I am gone away, in part, since your passing.
I have no beginning without your home,
and in your end, I am gone away.

When you would sing, I would listen and look
up into your eyes before I had the word
‘beauty’ to shine up at your face.

All my words came from your first
“I love you.” The foundation of my language
is your embrace.

I know the meaning of the word, not just
in the breakdown of sounds, but by your
relentless pursuit of my heart.

You were a force, and the wind has not died
since you’ve gone. The trees are permanently
bent from your crushing blows.

You dared me to love greatly; you lavished me
with praise. Everything I am is you and you are
everything to me. A home is not a building,

made of wood and nails. A home is not this place
or that place where we lived. A home is you,
my mother. You are my home.

Little one

Little One,

If you like to think of God
as a metaphor for everything good
in the world,
I think that’s ok.

If you’re not sure
what faith really is,
it’s alright to say,
I don’t know.

If you can think positive
thoughts when everything around
is falling down,
Then you’re ahead of the game.

If you want to believe in love
when someone says something mean,
and it hurts more than you think you can bear,
then you’re already on your way.

Make small, little acts of love a big deal.
Make big, complex concepts seem small and easy to understand.

I give you this advice, little one.
Take what you like.
Leave what you don’t.
And be sure to give a whole lot away.

With all the love in the world,
Dad