It Was a Simple Poem

I wrote a poem today about my father and something broke open in me. I wrote it and then I went back to bed, crying; emotions that are never done in me. It's kicked up in me, because of Jay dying and Merrick coming into our life. It's because of Thanksgiving and falling leaves and the endings.
I could let Dad rest if he really was resting, but he's out there. Out there and unavailable to me. I can make many choices, but I cannot go to him. There is a frightening place I can never enter. I cannot be rejected again. And though I know it's more complicated than any of my thoughts can hold, I face the terrible reality of the loss. The loss of what he is to me and what he's not. The loss of trying to understand. The loss of forgiving and and having it give me nothing but the loss.

I have had such a wonderful cycle of happiness, I can take this standing. I can let the blow meet my head. I'm cut loose in it, but I don't want to stop what the truth will mean. I end here.
I have skin and a heartbeat and they have an ending.
I have sadness and eyes open and they have an ending.
I have questions and frustration and they have an ending.
I have words and breath and they have an ending. Selah.
The ending came before me and now I'm here.
The ending is a puzzle and I move the pieces.
The ending I can't touch and You see me.
The ending is Holy and hope treacherously leads me to face it. Selah.