yther

So you've got four or five days left to live.

So
it hurts to drink a cup of coffee
you can't concentrate on a game of chess
your toes are turning purple
listening to Brahms is blissful...

So can you hold out until your grandchildren come,
from FL
and LA
this weekend?
We hope we can express our love in person.
We want you to meet your great-granddaughter.

I remember
spending the night and hearing the train running
through your front yard
being scared of the pump in the basement
thinking that you must be the biggest man on the planet
because
(unlike my father)
you still had all your hair
you built a dome
you helped me set my moral compass
you developed your own photographs.

When I dare to think about
the cancer
that kills you,
I can only hope
that my passing is as quick as yours,
because a slow and prolonged death of the mind,
as we see with Grandmom,
would torment and disgrace me.

I may wish that I could remember only the good times,
but no--
I have seen you in your wheelchair
with your oxygen tank
and your plastic urinal
almost as undignified as a person can be--
but not yet so.

I will remember the good times--
fishing at the beach and catching nothing,
playing chess when you let me win,
Victor Borge in "concert".

Please know that we love you,
even if we're too wimpy
to tell you when we should have.