First Christmas without Dad

This is my first Christmas since my Dad went to Heaven. You hear many stories about cancer "survivors" and I wanted desparately for my Dad to be a "survivor." It wasn't to be. I received a difficult lesson in resourcefulness and tenacity watching my Mom and Dad fight this killer together. I'm not the first one to hurt this way, I know, but here is something I've had on my mind for a few months. A lot of emotion, a lot of memory; for what it's worth.

Inside Out
The grand introduction was today,
it entered your life after a gradual escalation of pain,
growing until it finally got in your way
and focused the attention of you
On it.

It's been killing you,
invisibly,
from the inside out.

The hands of a surgeon,
burns of radiation,
the ills of chemical solutions,
bring optimism even
to you.

The progress is only a delay,
and the killing continues
from the inside out.

I'm besieged by the tyranny of me,
desperately clinging to the hope of victory,
refusing to believe the inevitability
that is screaming
through you.

Yet the killing continues,
now obviously,
from the inside out.

The circle of loved ones begins
your eyes beg for liberation,
instead we join a quiet caravan
back home
for you.

Because the killing's complete,
too painfully,
from the inside out.

Large gatherings of friends and family,
kind expressions and eulogies,
fitful tears and muddy knees,
evidence of the pain caused by the loss
of you.

A survivor you weren't meant to be;
it killed you
from the inside out.

I love you Dad. See you later.
-Spleen sends.