Our Missing Link

Disconnected family, you exist in distant photos.
A bit of self to you, I give, for distance stole our chance,
For little life of little girl,
before you to unveil.

Little girl holding phone awaiting his answer. 
Empty ring after empty ring
resounding
in
rejection.
Sitting on end of last sidewalk on packed suitcase holding bear.
Waiting for love’s acceptance, salvation from harsh words.
Confusion at the dreaded, “He loves you.  He’s just sick.”
For to a child with molding heart, what comfort could it bring?
Brought back I am to happy times
clouded as the pictures fade
of how he’d sing and how he played
and the beauty that came
when he created things. 
Such guilt I feel at how as troubled teenaged girl I acted. 
I’m better now, no more fits, no more bad behavior.
Will he stay now that I’m not bad
and see that I’ve found Jesus?
This too displeased his troubled heart and pushed him far away.
And now I see your loving faces, family of his.
Allowing me in on the celebration.
He was my place to hide when your faces were so new.
I’d find his hand and with one glance
we both knew
the other was just as lost.
I was loved by my father, yes I know.
I miss his face, voice and awkwardness.
Yes, he was my hero.
Dear family, please never see
my face as a sad reminder only of what’s lost.
There’s more than just his missing link.