How joyous!, passing this time alone with your father, how bright his golden laugh which drew you to laugh yourself uncontrolled, how sweet the happy hour oysters you two pry and eat, piling wobbling shells that glisten on the table while the pianist plays by the kitchen doors. You find yourself reminded of what you wrote in the eulogy: that you two would still possess a relationship even though he was dead, that you could still go and speak with him when you dreamed and so you see the seat opposite from you seats no one.
Copyright © 2013 by Ken Chen. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on October 21, 2013.