I thought he would die of a broken heart, but instead he does yoga on the beach. Hangs out with the guys. Infirm and mainly silent. He lives with the hope of survival. Love was there. Now it's not. So, he takes the bus to the beach. Shuffles with his walker. Tries to learn to breathe again. His eyes betray him. Weepy, they droop. Heavy from not seeing.
It's not only age though. It's not only loss though. He forces us to see what was never there. We only imagined it.
I always knew that I would be left with him, not you. You dangled your silken threads, tempting us to hold on, though we knew we could not. And as you moved farther away, finally leaving us, the threads remained suspended, defying gravity and your children.
He tries to make sense of his life now but all that is left is a downward dog and a breath here and there. Incapable of turning inside, he stays on the outside refusing to dream. With only his walker to hold on to, he remains asleep, refusing to awaken.
It's not only age though. It's not only loss though. He forces us to see what was never there. We only imagined it.
I always knew that I would be left with him, not you. You dangled your silken threads, tempting us to hold on, though we knew we could not. And as you moved farther away, finally leaving us, the threads remained suspended, defying gravity and your children.
He tries to make sense of his life now but all that is left is a downward dog and a breath here and there. Incapable of turning inside, he stays on the outside refusing to dream. With only his walker to hold on to, he remains asleep, refusing to awaken.
