i don't dream of you anymore.... i never get that lucky. you never grace me with your presence and i don't really think i believe in that kind of thing anymore, anyway.

fact of the matter: it's still hard. every patient i see, every middle aged man in his fifties... he somehow becomes like you. a man in a car, a man walking down the street.... i'm always constantly reminded that you're never here and every day it hurts. it hurts the same.

i'm still grieving; i'll never stop. i don't think i can ever forget you. sure... i don't remember your voice.... i don't remember how your laugh sounded. but i remember your eyes lighting up when you had something funny to tell me. i remember the way your arms gave me warm, bear hugs. i remember the smell of your pillow. i remember your crooked fingers because of arthritis but how those hands could be the gentlest instruments ever when you helped me with my school projects or when you sifted through your coin collection. i remember your wallet, worn down but it was a christmas present mom had bought for you; pieces of paper and business cards making the bulk of it from the people you met. i remember the little bald spot that was coming through on the back of your head. i remember the ants dance, the karate-chopping, the crow's nest.... i remember so much of you that it can't die. that it's going to live on through me and through my children and so on. you can never die.

i just miss you and i'm missing the things i'll never get to have with you. i know you'd be proud. i know you'd be rooting for me every step of the way. but it's like love. you know it's there... you know they love you... but sometimes you gotta hear it; i can't hear it from you anymore.

i don't know what to do about this, anymore. it still hurts the same.