There is a strange man sitting across from me at the table, in a flash I see him again. In a flash there is another hint, a frozen frame of a man very familiar to me, who is familiar no more. This strange man is a small piece of everything I remember, about my grandfather.
It’s like watching a puff of smoke disappear right before your eyes. He is running, dancing, walking and crawling away from himself one deep breath at a time. Always a little bit closer, inching forever away from me and toward the inevitable.
I will keep these pieces. The parts that have been left behind. Laughing eyes, dancing feet, big spirit. Energy enough to fill a whole room.
When he sits, what concept of time exists as he sits? The minutes marked by new aches and pains and how much he has forgotten.
“Trying to remember, it…
View original post 268 more words