Him

I don’t remember a lot, but I do remember him

I like to remember the real him

not the him he became

I hope to remember the grandpa who tied my snow boots

who got up in the middle of the night for me

and who put movies in for me

The grandpa who let me play with his blood-pressure pump

who let me destroy his kitchen with blankets and pillows for a fort

and who let me invade his house for as long as I wanted

I want to remember his scowl

for when he knew you knew better

for when he was joking

and for when you were in trouble

I want to remember

him sitting at his bar, a cigarette hanging from his lips

and the full belly hanging over

his blue jeans and plaid shirts-the greaser look

I’m afraid I won’t remember this

I’m afraid, in it’s rightful place

I will remember something different

I don’t want to remember

the countless hospital beds

the oxygen tanks, IVs or tubes everywhere

Not the grandpa who had

the thin body from weight loss

the bruised arms from inaccurate nurses

the slow, constant beep from a heart monitor

or the pale, yellowish skin from sickness

I don’t want to remember

his terrible, raspy, and pained cough

or his droopy, sad eyes

not his struggle to breathe every breath

and definitely not the lifeless body on the bed

He was a great man

He loved with a tough approach

and lived honorable

He was

before the disease replaced him

before the disease became him

I don’t want to remember that

And somehow all the memories I'm fond of

they coming flooding back

most clearly when that familiar smell returns

His brand of cigarettes burning

I often secretly crave it

maybe just to remember

the real Him

Author's Note

I added the last two stanzas later and I'm not sure how I feel about them, tell me what you think. :)

Reviews

[Dolce Vita]

The last stanza was very poignant; the craving for a cigarette as strong as the craving for him to be around again. It really works :)