Sleeping and Waking

He wakes up in the morning and knows not what to do.
He sits on the edge of his bed,
Looks down at the unpaired socks he put on three days ago.
He drowns his head in his five-o’clock “shadow”.
He looks behind to where his wife once laid;
They buried her nine years ago this day.
Their daughter was only seven at the time.

His daughter
He uses the last of his energy to dress.
He opens his door.
A hallway once white, now a sick beige.
He opens the door opposite from his own.
His daughter was sixteen.
She left her bed unmade the last time she slept.
The pictures hang from her wall resemble her life:
Posters of bands strategically placed,
Her friends with goofy faces
And even a picture of her mother with her placed on her dresser
People that she felt were important.
Her father’s picture was nowhere to be found.
A tear formed in the pit of his eye.

The last time he saw his daughter
Was as she left for school on Friday.
This is by far the worst Monday ever.
He loved his daughter.
She was his whole world.
He gave her everything he could
Especially in those last nine years
She was the last love he had.
But as she matured, she showed less affection.
But he knew she loved him.
But it became “uncool” for her to show affection to her dad
When all her “friends” were around.

She hung out with the wrong crowd.
They tried to persuade her into drugs and booze.
She’d have some liquor, but no smoke
Just to “fit” right in.

He made it down to the kitchen table
The cup of cold coffee reaches his lips
He does not care, it is the least of his problems
He should have made a stand in his life’s life
She was mixed in with the wrong crowd.
She left a party on Friday night
Sober as a horse
With her best friend at the wheel
He was glad he didn’t have to see the accident.
He met her at the hospital early Saturday morning.
The odour of sterility of the ICU Ward brought back memories
The last time he was in this place,
He held his wife’s hand for the last time.
As was the last,
He held his world’s hand for the last time.

What is a father to do when his family leaves
He is now alone, facing the struggle alone this time
He has nothing left to live for.
A parent is not supposed to bury their children.
He gave her his world, but gave himself too much.
A part of him did not die with her that night,
His entire life did.
His heart fell six feet the second time he saw that hole.
How do you comfort a man that
Wakes up in the morning and knows not what to do?