My tears may be purple, but they aren't unique

You ask me what makes me unique, can I give a little critique?

Unique is the way we look on the outside, but grief impacts us all -

Dear Dad:

How can I write a poem, when my emotions are stirred

With the pain that I feel, and the words gone unheard

To the man that I loved, and who loved me first

Purple, the color that feels somewhat cursed

The color of a monthly awareness ribbon

Alzheimer's, a disease that can't be forgiven

Fears hidden -

Some people don't understand why

A color is instantly making me cry

You were too young, just sixty-eight

Only sixty years old with your diagnosed fate

Too late -

Oh, how I wish I could turn back the time

Hold your hand longer, and wish you goodnight

Spend less time being your hard-headed daughter

And show you how much you really had taught her:

Good work ethic, sports, values, and humor

Be honest, save money, and don't believe rumors

"Measure twice, cut once", use integrity

Life's not fair, and there's no guarantee

And, Dad...

You're on my mind all the day long

With every sign, with every song

When I look in the mirror, It's you staring back

And that's the best gift you've given, in fact:

So many memories, side-by-side

Today I'll wear purple, and wear it with pride

Original Poem

Mary Driver

May, 2021