papa,
there’s still a part of me that can’t believe that you’re gone, because there’s so much of you that’s still here.
i still hear the shuffle of your feet against the kitchen floor.
your keys still hang on the hook in the dining room.
granny still sleeps on her side of the bed.
she watches TV in your recliner, and sits how you used to sit
laid back with both feet propped on the foot stool.
memories with you are still just as vivid as if they happened yesterday:
-you waking me up early to go grocery shopping with you
-waking up to the smell of you making pancakes on random Friday mornings
-leaving fancy restaurants and taking a handful of mints to stuff in our pockets
-kissing you on the top of your head before I went to bed
-driving home on summer afternoons listening to the smooth jazz station
-duck taping your side mirror back on your car when I accidentally hit a trash can when I was 15 (you and granny swore up and down that robitussin and duck tape were the answer to everything lol)
-watching you bob your head whenever Cassanova played on the radio
-listening to you talk about how much you loved granny
i thank you for leaving so much of your love on this earth that even in your physical absence your presence is still felt. thank you for showing me what unconditional love is—and accepting myself and others for where we were and loving us just the same.
when I said “there will never be another Jesse Rankin,” i meant that.
there’s not a day that goes by that you’re not on my mind. i love you with all of me.
love,
“billie the kid.”
