The Athabasca river flew by swiftly
And I threw rocks and watched the splashes
Being engulfed by the current.
One rock decided I should follow
If it had to freeze so would I.
Dad chased me along the shore as I bobbed
Down the river.
He looked frightened, angry.
The water was too cold to feel, or I don’t remember.
Only feeling his giant hand
Plucking me from liquid ice.
When he grew sick,
I could not save him
From leukemia, his icy river inside.
Dad felt pain I never had to.
His rock would not let go.
Nineteen months I ran along his shore
I didn’t look scared, just angry.
Dad could do everything,
But I could never pull him from death’s grip.
I didn’t have big enough hands.
