Cheers,

Two days from now will mark the first anniversary of my father’s death.

He battled cancer. We were told it was treatable. We were told he would live a long life.

It was too late when they discovered that he had a very rare version of this very treatable cancer.

It’s possible I may write and publish a few blog posts, over the next few days, that may be difficult to read for some.

I hope you understand.

Matt

My father lost custody and the right to see my brother and I when we were young. Later in life
my father and I became very close.

Poem

And with this
I saw you in my mind;
as real
as anything else.

-M. Taggart

Another Ride #Poem

You can come for a ride with me,
but it’s not going to be like most rides.
We’ll find the old dirt roads with
not much to see.
Woods, streams, mountains, and more
dirt roads steadied with ruts and bumps
and dust. The windows will be down.
Wind will stream inside one and out the other.
And the conversation might be about
who visited who in which dream and what
had been said and the possibilities of why.
Or, we won’t talk. Instead we might listen
to the chirping of the birds. Or, if we’re lucky
the rumbling of a thunderstorm will tickle
our imaginations until finally it hits and
the dusty dirt road becomes a slippery mud pit.
If the storm is bad enough, and the wind strong enough,
a few branches might come down, even a tree.
That’s OK though. We have rope and a chain saw,
and besides, the story just got better.
Thanks for coming on these rides, Dad.
Even though you’re gone,
I still talk with you.
Sorry about the yelling-
Sometimes you do feel a bit too far away.

-M. Taggart

Here’s the song! Just a Captain

My brother, Chris, yet again knocked it out of the park by capturing this incredible song while it was playing live on the radio. Thank you, Chris!

Miss you, Dad. What a gift it is to listen to this gem. And to all of my WP friends out there who’ve taken a moment to express kindness concerning my Father’s passing, thank you. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do.

That’s my old man singing and playing the guitar. He wrote the song.

Matt

What an amazing talent, Dad, I should have told you more often.

Thank you, WP Family.

My Dad would have been 66 today. It’s been a tough few days leading up to this. The emotions snuck up on me. I didn’t expect it to be like this. At night I’ve been sitting on our back deck looking at the stars waiting for him to show himself. Sometimes I play his music. I don’t always handle that too well.

I took Gavin fishing this past weekend. He met an adorable little girl who was bird watching with her mother. Within minutes they were talking and it didn’t take long before Gavin announced to them that his Grandfather died. My father was amazing with Gavin. Which, for me, was healing to see. When I was Gavin’s age my father wasn’t part of our family unit.

Things change.

Thanks everyone, for the digital support and friendship. I consider of number of you friends. Even if only through these online channels, you are great people. I’m thankful for that and I’m thankful for WP. One of the bright spots for me (concerning the writing world) was Tara and her accepting a short story of mine into a wonderful horror anthology that she edited and published. Tara, I appreciate you. I still can’t find the motivation to submit any work and you were able to get that unstuck. I know I can ‘get there’ again, but I guess not yet.

So, I think I’ll take myself fishing today and see if I can find Dad.

Matt

Poem

Hey Dad
I’m listening to a song

In it, I hear you

After the divorce, five years old,
I’m watching you play guitar
at the foot of the bed

In the home I used to live in

The same bed you and Mom
slept in

You’re gone now
But not really
It only takes one song
and a note
to bring everything back

I saw you once a week
as a child
Thank you for trying to make
the most of it

-M. Taggart

ps, he can’t hit it as good as you. just sayin.
Someone you loved.

These empty streets

i drove to my father’s house
in Massachusetts.
a group of us made a large
dump run for my step-mother.
we even pulled the old pool table
out from the basement.
i held onto one end as a neighbor
cut it in half so we could
fit it into the trailer
i felt a bit sad then

after everyone left
i stayed with my step-mother
and listened to some of
my father’s music
he was damn good
but gone now

i walked into each room,
a house i lived in
as a small child,
and walked around the yard.
so much had changed
but everything was the same

eventually i loaded my truck and
drove home on streets filled with
traffic, but i only saw blank and
empty faces, gawking and waving
unhappily at slow drivers

i wonder if they know they’re alive

-M. Taggart

poem – and it’s just fine

this empty feeling
greets me daily

it’s that simple

i don’t care to write
to go for my drives
to talk

although i do try
it feels fake

people text me
and call
sometimes i answer

i don’t feel sad
just empty

maybe this is just the
new me

and i grin because
no way in hell

I cleaned and oiled
one of your old
rifles yesterday
I wasn’t sure if it
would explode
I closed my eyes
and pulled the trigger
Passion filled my lungs
and my heart
You did that for me
Dad
And your rifle is
just fine

-M. Taggart

poem

Today, while snow blowing,
Gavin was inside alone.

He’s four.
I entered the house
‘Gavin, you good?’

‘Oh yea, butt crack.’

I went back to work.
At the end of the driveway,
some 340 ft away,

Daydreams can cripple

It’s closing in on 7 PM
Gavin is downstairs
watching a movie
yelling out the names
of dinosaurs I can’t pronounce

Maybe it’s time I daydream
about smiles
and bouncing hair

-M. Taggart

Poem

There comes an early morning
when we look at the sky differently.
Our hands curl and change-
The crows call loudly, swoop,
and cackle-
It’s not too late.

-M. Taggart