It was also written in the run up to the first anniversary of my stepfather's death.
I didn't make a post about that, because I don't like to dwell on it, but this poem does express my feelings on the subject.
I miss my Dad.
Thestrals Are No Consolation
Seeing something die changes you,
Whether it's just a snail,
A beloved family pet,
Or a parent you'll miss forever.
You're not quite the same person you were before.
When you hear that wet, cracking noise,
Or watch the vet inject the sedative,
Or hear the rattle of a man's last breath,
You become aware of death in an intimate way.
And you know that one day, if you're lucky,
Someone else will change that way because of you.