A Hard Day

I’m thinking of you today, she said,
it’s a hard day.
I blinked, pulled up short.
The meaning of the day now cast anew.

I had been celebrating
with my son’s father and

my husband’s father and
I was not thinking of him.

I wasn’t thinking of his “Would you terribly”s and “Ever so kinds”. 
Of his polyester pants and the chemistry stains.
Of the Sunday roast in his wingtips and tie,
and the cups of tea forever.

I wasn’t thinking of his inky fingers and scrappy mustache,
Of the morning crossword and his fountain pen,
Of the crumpets at tea time and the curries on Friday,
and the beer and smokes forever
yes, the beer and smokes forever.