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Awakening - May Pham

A Man Attends His Father's Funeral

Son became. Dad cradled, comforted. Son cried, cried, cried. Dad panicked. Son grew. Son crawled. Son walked. Son talked. Son explored, discovered. Dad taught. Son grew. Son failed, fought, bullied. Dad asked. Dad hugged. Son wept.

Son flirted. She renounced. Son tried. She left. Son cried, cried, cried. Dad arrived, held, soothed.

Son grew. Son moved. Son educated, learned. Dad secluded. Son called, called, called. Son wished, asked. Dad responded, advised, grinned. Son laughed. Son drifted. Son deployed.

 

Dad waited, wondered, grieved. Son returned. Dad kissed. Son stuttered. Dad blessed. Son wobbled, stumbled, fell. Dad carried. Dad nursed, prayed. Son recovered. Son smiled.

Dad died.

Dad died. 

Dad died.

Son shrieked. Son suffered. Son sobbed. Son throbbed, ached.

 

Dad celebrated. Dad remembered. Dad honored. Dad observed. Casket opened. Dad stilled. Eyes opened. Dad posed. Casket closed. Casket transferred. Hole dug. Soil turned. Casket lowered. Hymns sung. Prayers said.

Son grew. Son met, married, mated. Kids questioned. Son refused. Kids begged. Son thought. Son told. Grandpa smiled. Heaven shook. Clouds parted. Sun shined. Son gasped.

 

Dad?

 

They embraced.

Awakening by May Pham from Vantage

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