Fog. Mind jumbled.
Face warming. Tingles and flushes.
Eyes. Drooping. Welling? They can’t. Not here.
I see his mustache. Hasn’t had it for maybe 10 years.
Sitting on his lap in a recliner watching magic shows on late night tv.
Riding in his car, listening to LeAnn Rimes.
Taking an early train into Chicago.
Waking before dawn to share breakfast with his friends.
Trips to the zoo.
Memories flooding in.
What do I do? He’s invincible.
Well, not invincible. But to me he should be.
I’ve heard the stories
Of his wild, younger days.
Florida, dancing, and traveling
His years here have been incredible.
The grandchildren that love and adore him.
I see the joy they bring to his face.
Is he happy right now?
Is he in pain?
There’s no guarantee he’ll be ours much longer.
Will he be here for Christmas? My wedding? No telling.
If I text him now, what will I say?
I can’t find the words. I’m so afraid.