Tomorrow

My father sat in his chair on the porch,

watching the kids run around in the grass.
He sat watching them, smiling
as they laughed and screamed while running past.

I thought to myself, get a picture
of him surrounded by the kids
but I didn’t want to interrupt their play
and now I wish I did.

Tomorrow, I thought, is the party
I’ll get a picture of them then
but moments later, he had a seizure
now I won’t get the chance again.

He gave a sound that will haunt my mind
until the very day I die
and then he slumped into his chair;
the kids began to cry.

We called for help,
and did our best to keep him alive
but I failed that crucial moment
and I watched my father die.

My father taught me many things,
and one last lesson with his last breath:
‘Tomorrow is never guaranteed,
remember today, and remember death.’

I should strive to pack in daily
what should be done each and every day
from hugs, and pictures, and I love Yous
ensuring great memories are made.

By casting away tomorrow,
and making a full life of today,
perhaps my kids won’t share my remorse
over things that I meant to say.

Conversations left not started,
not finished, and vital words not said…
Offering me nothing left
but a crushing sense of guilt and regret.

I can’t tell him what I needed him to know
I can’t ask him what I need to know.
and all because, like that picture,
I thought I’d do it tomorrow