Phil was my Mum’s partner I guess, but he didn’t live with us. He would tell us stories and give us hidden lessons, but he wasn’t our teacher. He was in my life for 10 years almost every day, but I didn’t call him ‘Dad’. When Phil passed away I was just 14. I went to school the next day. No one had met him properly before and I didn’t even have a label for him. So I kept it to myself for the sake of not having to explain who a person was when they were alive; when they were now dead. When someone is alive we waste a lot of time trying to define and label our relationship instead of enjoying. When someone dies the only thing you have left to analyse is that relationship. I had done a pretty good job at never sincerely thinking about my relationship with Phil or his death until recently. Although there is only 24 short lines to this poem it has relit many memories, organised my grief and given me some kind of peace.