I remember days long past
Of sunshine and calm
Depths still clear
At forty feet

The rod held
Expectantly
In your son’s hands

Paddle in yours
The strokes
A gentle
Powerful
Grace

You didn’t care for fishing
But I did
So out we went

My youth
A stream of summer memories
New England lakes
Bass and wallabies
A pickerel here and there
The perch and sunnies
Disdainfully thrown back

Paddling today
On a perfect day
I reflect on those times
And the times that would follow

Times of storms and dark clouds
Murky shallows
When we were not always
So gentle with each other
Awkward
Sometimes graceless
The depth of you
Forever unreachable

But still I knew you
As the father who’d take me out
For no more than the pleasure
Of my pleasure

That is
I knew
Always
That you loved me

You’ve been gone now
For longer than I ever had you

For your eulogy
I used the metaphor
Of the missing wingman
A natural for the pilot father

But on this day
Of sunshine and calm
Of depth and clarity
I notice a second paddle
Laying against the empty seat
Wishing your hands were upon it
So that once again
We could take on this task of living
With the harmony of paddling
Together