Dedicated to my dad, Dix Bruce [Sept. 10, 1952 - Feb. 1, 2023]

A few days ago, 
My dad went to Safeway 
And got himself a 4-pack 
of those chocolate chip muffins that no one else likes.

He ate one for breakfast 
And went about his day. 
But now I’m holding a container 
With three muffins left.

So, you see, he cannot be gone. 
There are still three muffins
That’s at least three more mornings
That he should be here. 

We’ve already scheduled him
To sing at Cece’s preschool on her fourth birthday 
In a few weeks. 
He has to be there.
It’s a family tradition. 
He wouldn’t miss it. 

And there’s the thing with the three muffins. 
Like I said, he’s the only one who likes them. 
So, he can’t be gone. 
There are still three muffins left. 

And Tilly’s ballet recital is already on the calendar.
Who’s going to take her photo
With a fancy camera?
He loved seeing her perform. 
He wouldn’t miss it. 

And, you see, he’s the only one who can make the girls giggle-squeal. 
When they played Baba-Mountain
Or Baba-Troll. 
Who’s going to play those games with them? 
He can’t be gone, because we had plans to play those games. 

And, not to repeat myself, 
But there are these three muffins. 
We can’t throw them away. 
He wanted to eat them. 
He’s the only one who likes them, you see. 

He was going to write a song 
For my debut picture book
But I’ve been trying to get published for years
And haven’t sold a manuscript
He was so proud that I never gave up 
He wouldn’t miss my first book release party. 
Who’s going to write that song? 

And what about all of his favorite trails? 
Who’s going to pick eucalyptus leaves for us to smell? 
Who will have a penny to stick in the cracking old log? 
Who’s going to hold my mom’s hand?

“The poor dear,” you may be thinking,
“She is oscillating between the denial and bargaining phases of grief.”
But that’s where you’re wrong, my friend. 
Because I cannot be experiencing grief. 
On account of the three muffins. 
Waiting for him. 

We were waiting. 
We had time. 
He was going to teach the girls to play guitar.
Like his grandfather did for him. 
But their fingers are still too small. 
We were waiting. 
We had time. 

So you can take back your condolences.
No need to send anything. 
There has been a mistake. 
He cannot be gone. 

Because there are these three muffins
Sitting on the counter. 
Who is going to eat them?