Posted in 
Tags: 
He stares blindly out the window of another night
down on Bleeker Street, where nothing seem to change except a world gone mad.
He exists.
I exist.
I go to him, touch his shoulder feeling the quivering bone underneath my hand
but he doesn’t move, nobody is home it seems.
As I bend to kiss his forehead,
I think back to my childhood remembering the smell of him;
a rich elixir of leather, spice and a fatherly scent I could never quite put my finger on.
It was a smell of total comfort and one of extreme familiarity.
His scent is different tonight; he smells clinical, preserved and abandoned.
He smells like a familiar stranger, an ancient decade of melancholy memories,
echoes of voices lost in an obsidian mist . . .
I sit there with him as we both blindly stare out the window, watching a world gone by
and we sigh,
we cry,
we say goodbye to the too many words left unspoken,
the things we once took for granted,
and the once welcome spaces where we no longer belong.
I take his frail and shaking hand and wonder (as I have thousands of times before)
how many more nights will he sit here all alone and stare?
And simply exist.
There is little left to say but with my father, somehow that’s okay.
Somehow, I know he understands.
He has taught me well.
He was never big on words anyway.
It will be very hard to forget the nights down on Bleeker Street and even harder to forget
the little man just sitting staring out the window . . .
all of a sudden I am seeing a rapid decline in my folks. I can only imagine how you get through these visits.
thanks, one foot in front of the other.
I come by, I cry, I leave, unable to find words.
No words this time, just a {{{hug}}} honey
You can have as many as you want in July..these are extras
:happy:
Mate, I feel your pain and wish I could help.I will pray for your Dad to get some internal rest and peace. Our thoughts and prayers are with you
Mark
it sounds trite, but just being there sometimes is all you can do…
I almost didn’t comment….didn’t know what would be right! I need to comment….
Thinking of you…Pam, the girls and Walter. When you hold his hand he is with you…he’ll be with you, always!!! My thought is that there is peace for you and him, when you hold his hand. My thoughts always come back to the baseball he kept……thoughts of you..he always kept with him, even when you weren’t there. Just as you will always have thoughts of him! What a special father/son bond you have! You are blessed to have him(and your Mom)! …Such special people! Always down to earth and kind-hearted, much like you and Pam!!! Thoughts are with you ~m!
xo Lynn
He DOES understand and he HAS taught you well…
I wish I could know the man that helped you become the man you are. Thank you and Pam for bringing Sarah into this world and thank you to Sarah for bringing ALL the Murphy’s into my son’s life and to mine. Love and prayers….