The Skylights – Hour Twenty-Two

You walked into the living room and flat lined by the chair
We had to let the medics know that you were in despair
They found a pulse, you tracked your eyes and squeaked a last Goodbye
Before you faded out again through the lights in the sky
I’ve always felt your spirit left through windows in our roof
And when our ceiling fan turned on all by itself, my proof
It was the saddest day I’ve known, the day you left us, Dad
But, I am grateful for the time and memories we had
Not long after you left this world, the hurricane brought close
The death of so much more in life, those skylights suffered most
And so did the fishing pier home, where we’d spent many days
The gallant pier, our second home, in toothpicks on display
Losing the pier felt so much like I had somehow lost you twice
Gone was our little piece of joy, our coastal paradise
But unlike life, it was rebuilt and the memories remain
Death is so final and so raw, I wish I could explain
You left this world so suddenly, so tragically, in fact
In all went down in front of me with that last heart attack
I wish that there could be some way for the skylights to return
Your soul back to us here on earth, for this much I so yearn

2 thoughts on “The Skylights – Hour Twenty-Two

    1. This is a true story. My dad passed 13 years ago, right underneath our two skylights, in front of me. 84 days later, Hurricane Ike destroyed the house, breaking the roof between the two skylights, and totaling the pier where he and I had spent my childhood. It was like losing him twice.

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