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I can’t speak to my fathers grave: it is disconnected from him, by definition the one place he most certainly never was. I can’t speak at the sky; I’m not any

I can’t speak to my fathers grave: it is disconnected from him, by definition the one place he most certainly never was. I can’t speak at the sky; I’m not any sort of believer. Despite our never texting, though, I recently found some great comfort in texting my thoughts to him. Texting is already such an asynchronous form of communication, it didn’t feel like talking to myself. Apparently the phone company has reassigned his cell number, though. So it really didn’t feel like talking to myself when I got a text back asking me to stop.

rmason 9y ago
At the end of his life my late father would call me four times a day. One of the hardest adjustments for me has been getting used to those calls not coming. I'd always call my dad every time I made an out of town trip. He'd worry so I always would let him know that I'd returned home safely. Multiple times I've had the phone in my hand, start to dial his number and stop. Grief is a bitch folks.