A number simple as breath,
but it carries a universe.
It marks a life too brief for the world to notice—
but impossible for a father to forget.
I carry it in ink
so silence can’t erase it,
so time can’t dilute it,
so love can’t be mistaken for loss alone.
This date is my reminder:
grief and love are not opposites.
They walk together.
They shape us.
They keep us honest.
And when I look down at this leg,
I know she was here.
I know I was hers.
And I know some things
are sacred enough to last forever.