Lives at the family cemetery so close to the clouds you could touch them. 
 
He works long hard hours rolling in his grave from everything I’ll ever do that he never thought I would.
 
Like watching Star Trek.
 
He shovels his own dirt against the grain of society and I watch him crumble at the crash of his vehicle into the cement walls on I-64. 
 
I watch him fall apart every single day for three years because things are hard.
 
I watch him waste away as the brain matter falls out of his ears and onto my cheeks. 
 
I watch him cry and fight to stay alive while trying to put it all back together.
 
I watch him die because 
things just don’t get better.
 
Like those pretty purple irises he planted at our home
 
I watch him breathe life into everything, even though he’s no longer here to see it.
 
I miss him.