Leaving Antigo, I want
to call you. To tell you
that the church you grew up in
has a new gathering space now.
But the altar and pews
haven't changed.
I remember being there when
Grandpa married after Grandma died.
I remember a succession of funerals.
I know you held that place
close to your heart.
It is a symbol of your childhood,
your innocence,
your formation.
I ache to hold your hand and
miss you with every cell,
every thought, every breath.
You were there when I took my
first breath.
I was there when you took
your last.
I will miss you until
we are together again.
