Father's Day

Touching the void

The last image I have of my father is his hollow shell after the 21 grams of energy left his body. I’d gotten there five minutes too late. He looked like a puppet. His skin was yellow. His eyes were open. He was staring at nothing but still staring. He looked like he weighed 50 pounds. I reached out to touch his chest and he was still warm.

I’d been dri…