When my dad was here, he was like a special treat.
Like a decadent dessert you only eat on birthdays.
Like the expensive silverware you only bring out on holidays.
Like the fancy dress clothes you only wear to funerals.
Just like a small rarity, not around long enough to even really feel.
Like a quick flash of lightning, striking, but vanishing an instant later.
Like tearing through presents on Christmas morning quick enough to get disappointed after the rush is over.
But now that he’s gone, it’s like a ceaseless chasm.
Like the throbbing pain of hitting your hip on the edge of the kitchen counter.
Like the sinking disappointment in getting a flunking grade after studying for hours.
Like the sting of getting dumped for the first time after being high in love.
Like the hole you feel in your chest when you’re sad but just can’t explain why.