I asked you what it was like to be dying
and you looked at me like I should know.
“We’ve been dying since birth,
it just didn’t show.”
When the doctors told you it was terminal
you told them they were making it into
“a bigger deal than it was” because
“life is always terminal.”
I laughed when you said that,
and you looked at me and winked.
No one else found it funny though.
They thought your cancer
was making you depressed.
And once again you said they were being overdramatic,
“Oh please, everything makes me depressed.”
And once again I laughed.
No one else found it funny.
No one ever did.
So Dad, I hope you understand my annoyance
at your funeral,
when they raved about your humor.
Because I know they stopped talking to you a while ago
and started talking to your tumor.
I was about to make a speech
and yell at them because you were my dad
and they only used you as a reason to cry.
But then I saw you standing at the back of the room
and it made me change my mind.
“My father was a brilliant man.
He was brilliant without cancer,
no less brilliant with.
He didn’t believe in suffering.
He believed in every day being
an undeserved gift.
He believed that dying was natural,
and it was only the absence of a soul
that made it sad.
And while life may be terminal,
Love is not.
And all this love is for you Dad,
beyond death do us part.”