March 2025 SOLC–Day 22
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My hands remain empty.

It’s a small thing, right? Nothing to get upset about. My Patriots shirt is a poor substitute, but it could work. Even if it’s not what I want.

But where can it be? 

I yank the clothes off my closet shelves, quickly sorting, refolding, searching. 

Where is it?

Where did I go?

It’s bright blue. It shouldn’t be hard to find. 

I wrack my brain trying to figure out where I put it. It has to be here somewhere.

In his obituary it stated, “a lifelong and frustrated fan of Detroit sports teams.” And I’m sure I wrote a poem once, in gratitude to the Lions for the distraction they offered him as he wasted away.

Kurt surprised me with this jersey the Christmas after he died. This jersey I can’t find. I sobbed when I pulled it out of the box.

Giving up my search as time runs out, I quickly search for that poem on my computer (I know I wrote one! Is that lost, too?), and somehow his obituary pops up.

And suddenly…there’s his face.

Oh.

My hand lifts as if to touch the screen.

“I miss you Dad,” I whisper.

Later, I step into the rainy morning wearing the Patriots t-shirt. But what’s missing weighs me down.

All. Day. Long.