Monday, May 18, 2015

Punched in the gut

I did all I could. I spent many weeks there, once I heard he was ill. That last Christmas? He had a slight headache. It got worse. Very worse. I called in all my markers. They weren't enough. Headaches. Brain tumors. Big ass brain tumors.

He was dead soon enough. Not so soon enough. We lose a parent, soon enough. Or not so soon enough. We weep. But not enough. Because, soon enough, another one goes. And another one bites the dust. And another one gone. And another one bites the dust.

Hey, hey, hey.

There is an orange kitty I stole from the display I keep of what my kids adored in their baby-ness and their toddler-ness.

It is an orange kitty. It means nothing to teens and adults. But it means loads.

Good-bye, you. And me.

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