Poetry by Hannah Dilday

      Torsten Behrens CC




My Old Dad

Don't know when I first realized I had an old dad,
Almost fifty when I was five
Still, I would never trade
Cus' the father you once wished to have
You had become.
But the kicker about having an old dad is
They die before the rest.
Now mom, she's older than you were when you died
Watching her grow old without you beside her
To make her feel young, it doesn't feel right.
I wonder, what would it be like
To have a dad as a woman, not a girl?
But that, I can't even comprehend.
When I realize I'll never know what it feels like
To have a dad again, I cry for you
My old dad.





The Last Time You Got This Sick, You Died

Dreamt we got to say a proper goodbye--
Used to grieve for myself, now for your fate
Cus' the last time you got this sick, you died.

Got me wondering if memories lie
No longer a child, as you replayed--
Dreamt we got to say a proper goodbye.

Dad, grant me a glimpse to the other side,
I held your hand as I begged you to stay
Cus' the last time you got this sick, you died.

Said you fainted just before I arrived
I asked you did it hurt, were you afraid?
Dreamt we got to say a proper goodbye--

Told me you still see yourself in my eyes,
Dad please don't worry, I will be okay
Cus' the last time you got this sick, you died.

Let me wear your pain like you wear your pride,
I feel my second chance slipping away--
Dreamt we got to say a proper goodbye
Cus' the last time you got this sick, you died.





The Dress I'll Never Wear Again

I used to love this place,
I'd go here with dad to shop for mom
For her birthday, for Christmas
But today I was here with mom
To shop for another occasion, one for dad.
It feels like everyone is staring at me
As my eyes trace the ground.
Mom tells them we're shopping for a dress, for me
What's the occasion? 
The saleswoman's words crescendo in my mind--
Mom asks her if they have any black dresses for girls my age
The saleswoman nods, and I can feel her pity now.
I wait in the fitting room
Avoiding eye contact with myself.
Maybe if I don't have anything to wear I won't have to bury my dad,
If only it were that simple.
She brings me all the black dresses she can find in my size but
Nothing fits right, I guess the occasion was to blame.
Black feels too real so I settle for something dark blue.
It wasn't the right size but it wasn't the dress that didn't fit, it was him being gone.
Itchy, scratchy, suffocating, I feel like I can't breathe
In this dress, in this new reality--
Still, I do my best not to cry.
A seamstress comes in to pin the dress where it doesn't fit,
I don't care about the dress.
She tells me it looks beautiful on me, 
I don't think she knows what this dress is for.
She pricks me a few times but I don't even flinch cus' nothing could make me hurt
Worse than I already do.
She hands mom the tag and says it will be ready tomorrow
I retreat to the fitting room to change 
While mom pays for the dress I'll never wear again.​




Hannah earned her bachelor's in Philosophy from The University of Oregon and studied abroad at The University of Cambridge. Though she always had a passion for writing, she did not realize her calling to poetry until relocating to The Netherlands in 2020. When Hannah was 17, her father lost his life to Acute Myeloid Leukemia two days after receiving his diagnosis. Hannah's late father serves as her inspiration not only in poetry, but also in life.