I left you there one day in your small apartment as I went about my business, my own wants, own needs in another far-away place where you were not. We spoke briefly by phone about this or that once in awhile about when we would meet again to share a few personal moments together you and I, father and son just the two of us. To talk about how you used to fish and why you can't now and about the assortment of medications in amber vials on top of the dresser. About other things that meant so much to you but meant so little to me. Our moment for sharing vanished with you as you walked into the night without me.
