A Hole in Me

I talked to my dad today.
I don’t really know him, but his voice,
so soft,
so familiar,
so comforting, and loving, exposed a hole in me. A hole that was supposed to be filled with days playing catch in the yard,
him dressing me on the way to church,
showing me how to tie a tie,
how to wear cologne,
letting me wear his suits,
take your son to work days,
so much more,
too much more,
add your own words,
I have no more,
or maybe lots more,
but there is nothing more,
nothing is left.
Everything is missing,
and I realized it when I heard his voice.
I found myself wanting to cry,
or blurt out “I love you dad,”
but that wouldn’t be right,

I don’t even know him.