It has been 730 days without you.
But I still feel as if you were around us.
There are days when I’m waiting for your messages or calls.
I think about you asking me about how my day goes.
We had a lot of misunderstandings when I was younger.
But things got better as we both grew older.
In fact, I dreamed of taking care of you in your old age.
A duplicate of the dream that I had for my mother.
The onset of the pandemic was emotionally draining.
As usual, I preferred to keep my thoughts and everything.
Had I known that that week would be our last conversation.
I would have stayed all night with you until the point of exhaustion.
Your life was something that a few would understand.
The idiosyncrasies, the beliefs, the failures, and success.
Perhaps that was the reason why you had foes and friends.
And you found an ally in me as you knew I’d be on your side.
Oh, how I wish you were here, Papa, to know that I’m better now.
‘Cause the last time that we talked, it was about uncertainties and fear.
Your messages are still here, I read them when I’m missing you.
You are gone but not forgotten I know that you know that, too.