Of Future, Past

(revision 2)

Through the rain soaked window pane, I see my past. The house with ghosts, from 6 years to 18 and more. Some happy, some sad. They speak to me in whispers, They touch me like a gentle breeze, before the storm. I let the storm front flood over me. I am drenched, but I survive. Do I see my future through, this same pane of glass? Older now almost a child. or is it child like again? His memories of me have faded, but his smile is still as bright, it's just doesn't come as easy anymore, and finding it is much more important now. It does not comfort me as much as it use to. Why do we have to fade? Are my memories of him strong enough for both of us? They keep me up when I should be way down. It is just, I can't share them with my father anymore.

I know he is proud of me, even though he can not hold the thought of me, long enough to remember my name. The traits I have I owe to him, and that's the part of him, which will always be alive and well, though at time it brings great sadness, I know in time they will also bring great joy. Where ever I am, I will remember you. When I do the things you and I enjoyed, I will honor you and the memories you no longer have. As I watch you fade, I will hold you, and think of all that you have done for me. I am grateful to have known, the man I call my father, a man who's compassion and love of me and of life, seemed limitless, a man who taught me to see the brighter side, of everyone and everything I encounter in life.