One more phone call.

That’s all I want. One more phone call with you to hear your voice and to listen to you go on about what you and Mommabear did for the weekend and how Mik is reading some book and you want ideas on what to get for her.

I want to hear you tell me to stop stressing over the little things. To just have you tell me to just stop and breathe and everything will be okay after it’s done. I shouldn’t have to worry about it.

I want to hear you tell me you love me and to give me shit for not calling enough because I know now, if I knew the situation, I would’ve never left your side. Day in and out, I would’ve annoyed you with every thought that came into my head and you would’ve laughed and called me a clown.

I think I’m doing okay most days and then I’ll be driving behind a muscle car and lose my shit over the smell of the gasoline. A smell that I knew all too well with having you as a Dad. I won’t change my subway order again because we ordered the same thing and there’s no more change I want to handle at this point.

the sound of your voice echoes daily in my head, like you just planted a spot in my mind and the tree just continues to grow.

I try to come up with witty comebacks at work, but I’ll never be as quick as you were.

“remember, I’ve got eyes in the back of my head and I’m watching every move.” You would say and we would just laugh because we knew you did.

Just one more phone call would be enough to ease my aching heart today, but I’d want one more call every day.

and yet those phone calls could never fix my broken heart, knowing I’ll never get them again.