They speak of you in past tense, as if you've been gone for a while now.
My mind refuses to process, my heart has no choice but to allow.
My mother's brother.
My childhood's father.
My uncle.
Suppressing tears so as not to ruin my memories of you.
They fall without my consent when I least expect them to.
For now, fondness is all I recall and jokes are all we reminisce.
The void left fails in comparison to my irrevocable love for you;
abyss.