Since you died,
I find myself frantically rifling through the newspaper,
to find the crosswords and word jumble on an almost daily basis,
and to finish them both by midnight
just to still feel close to you.
This compulsion is especially strong on the days when I feel particularly down…
just so that, in my head, I can remember when you did these puzzles every evening,
and would welcome me close beside you to “help.”
It allows me to again feel the elation of the couple of times when I got lucky and blurted out the answer,
and you told me, “Heh, now I did not see that. Good job.”
As you clicked your ballpoint pen to fill in the answers that I am sure you saw all along,
you made me feel clever and capable.
I unwittingly collect these stacks of unfinished crosswords that I cannot bear to toss out.
So many questions I have now. I wish you were here now to fill in the answers for me…all of them.
I miss you, Dad.
