like father, like me

the thought of him being gone frightens me
scared stiff and straight before the news even hits
i grow pensive and introverted the the rest of life's squabbles
what and where will i be without his presence in my life?
tall, dark, and wise
never have his words or his love steered me wrong
days when we don't speak i wonder where he is
what's he's doing and what show he is watching on television
what new health kick he's on or what political conspiracy he has subscribed to in the last few hours
i crave hearing his voice
his deep laugh
being told one of his dry, yet completely hilarious jokes
i see myself in the image of him
mirror reflective of his greatness
his dexterity and kindness stretched far and wide
made in his likeness
my grandfather is the representation of a life of service.
humanly flawed
divinely placed
he stands tall in the face of all i have ever seen
combatting the world's inadequacies with intelligence, wit, and logic
will he be able to battle this with the same strength?
can he?
i fear it's nearing his alleged 'time'
that 'time' that people speak of post-exit in an effort to ease a pain that simply
well
cannot be eased.
the thought of him suffering makes me nauseous
wanting to transfer his ailments to my own earthly limbs
preserving god's soldier for another to experience
the world will never be able to explain to me why bad things happen to good people
why good things happen to those unexpected
and why everything else just
just is.
his walk
his hugs
his smile
i paint his essence in my heart to breath life into my days
but know that paint can never replace the original
the original
never imitated
never replaced
i can only pray for good news
i can only pray for more time
i can only pray that i've showed and told him enough times how i feel.
what if prayer simply isn't enough?