Stay and Fish With Me (Though I Know You Can’t)
Steve B Howard 2018I don’t know why
I want you to stay
when I know you can’t.
It’s just your presence here
I guess, something to hold on to
though it rapidly fades.
You always said, “I’m a worrier”
and I know being the source
of so much sorrow in the room
would break you to tears.
But as I hold your roughened
laborer’s hand through the
final rasps and rattles from your lungs
you are not my father.
No, today you are my daddy and I
I am four years old again
on the pier in Hansville.
The triangular shaped flounder with
the spotted root beer colored body
flops and gasps against the white concrete.
And your arms surround me as you steady
the fishing pole and say, “Good job, little man.
Great job, pumpkin.” And I feel as if I’ve
done something great.
This small accomplishment so huge
in my heart connects me to you much
deeper than the simple moment among
the herring scales, screeching gulls, and
biting salty breeze.
Piscary, a funny thing to bond
over I suppose, but it was the measure
of our love until the very end.
Stay and Fish With Me (Though I Know You Can’t) was originally published in P.S. I Love You on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
