My father, Bryce Byrne Hudgins, died on June 24, 2013. We were very close. I wrote this the other day.

A sunny summer day doesn’t feel the same to me anymore.
It doesn’t feel the way I have conceived of a
sunny summer day.

I’ve always thought of a day like this as holding
potential for unalloyed fun,
an unremarked and uninflected freedom.

Now, it feels like a quiet harbinger…there’s something
quiet about it.
It makes me reflect the way
a gray rainy day in November may spur others
to quietly reflect.

As the rain hitting the streets
dampens some sounds and amplifies those of others
in movement, so the bright sky figuratively
stands testament,
illuminating, allowing thoughts of
the movement that ceased.

The imagination informed by youth is stilled,
overcome by the enlivened adult one.
The volume and flow that had been available
was put on a slow, inexorable mute.
The sun shines brilliantly. It’s quiet now.