I know we can do this, together,
She said holding her dead father’s hand.
He’d been gone now for over a decade,
But she knew only he’d understand
About things that were weighing her mind down,
About things that she couldn’t express,
When he was alive he knew just how to help,
And he still helped her now despite death.
When troubled or worried she’d take time,
To sit and think, ‘What would Dad say?’
And with time and quiet he gave an answer,
Which usually showed her the way
Out of trouble or worry or anguish,
Towards a more calm state of mind
So in just the same way as when she was a child
She imagined their fingers entwined.