I was my father
Dressed in an old hospital gown and pajamas,
Shuffling barefoot and alone in the brightly-lit ward
As I made my way to the stairs.

I was my father
Finding my navy blue station wagon
In the hospital’s vacant parking lot,
The vehicle unlocked and devoid of my wife and kids.

I was my father
Sliding into the driver’s seat on that bright spring day,
Accepting that the Ford started itself without a key
And shifted into gear as I gently held the wheel.

On empty suburban New Jersey streets,
My vehicle crept toward a home I no longer recalled,
The transmission failing as I wondered why,
Where everyone had gone, and how I was going.

I was my father
Again sitting behind my wheel
Looking at my quiet streets
From my vacant parking lot
Outside my empty hospital
In my station wagon without my wife or kids
On my sunny afternoon.

I was my father
In my driver’s seat,
Gently releasing my steering wheel
In my now eternally-parked wagon…

I was my father’s last dream
As my night gently became noon;
Sunlight streaming through my curtain,
His love streaming through my soul.