The one who’s been the most present for over four years
has gone.
Left in a car packed with all he owns
on a bright cold Sunday, December.
Left a scar.
We walked around the neighborhood
late last night
lamenting the change.
Still almost not understanding or accepting—
but a dawning sense.
Still to come—
the day-to-day reality of a great absence,
and what to fill it with.
(for Z, part I)
