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My First Love

Whoever said grief gets “easier” with time, just flat out lied.
When I opened my eyes at dawn, I forced them back shut. Maybe extended “sleep” would prolong the inevitable mountain of evidence that proved:

the cement of grief still lingers after losing you.

the absence of your face sitting across the table for our traditional lunch date.

the way your wisdom encouraged discipline, summoned conviction, but was always received in love.

Now, all that remains after those ashes of memories is the black coals of burning tears, which feels like some sort of consolation prize that doesn’t appease this jaded heart.

My overwhelming tears seek refuge in the glorious fountain of your eternal crown, but my flesh mourns the unfilled vacancy that can never be replaced.

My heart skips.
My head aches.
My hand shakes.

How can the predictability of life’s unavoidable circumstances leave such an unpredictable reservoir of sadness behind? 

I hope that you find complete rest in knowing that I’m giving this Earthly suit my absolute best though.

I take one step forward, cause I know from miles away, you still got my back!

I pedal through valleys.
I push through darkness.
I pray the “morning joy” comes to see your smile.

My Dad, 

my hero, 
my heartbeat,
my first love.





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