these things happened.

i took my pops to maine last month. we walked over to the lighthouse and laughed about that giant lobster, like always. we watched the tide roll in and out, the sun come and go, the clouds move in. we were there. it’s true.
another truth is he doesn’t remember any of it. he’s angry with me, for promising to take him to maine and then never coming for him. so i had these pictures printed, and wrote a stack of little letters, to remind him. a letter & two pictures a day; they might help with something… kindness, at the least, in the face of all this rage. the only thing i could think up to give: sweet words.
there is a day coming when he won’t know me anymore. i sense it’s not far off. letters and pictures won’t stop that train, but i’m trying to lean my back into some grace for the waiting.
“dogs are good people,” is what he said just before i snapped that one up there. yes, there it was, the soft pelt of his tender heart, the wisdom of loving what we can’t hold onto.
there’s so much more to say about all of this, but i don’t know what it is.



7 thoughts on “these things happened.

  1. I’ve been sending letters with photos to my grandpa the past few years that are a lot like these photos. He lives in he moment now as his memory continues fading. The letters and photos are something solid he can hold onto an go back to, since our conversations disappear on him seconds after we speak.

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