“Why are you sad, Daddy?”
“I was thinking about Grandpa.”
“Why, Daddy?”
“His eyes.”
♦
Pale blue eyes,
Colored by the horror of war in the South Pacific,
Once filled with promise in the redemption of a returning Marine,
Alive, warm in the embrace of young love,
Those eyes, stern and fair, glowed with pride for his family and grew calm with the wisdom of a well-lived life.
But in the twilight before his mind disappeared, those eyes begged me to stay;
Lenses clouded, they pleaded to understand the loss of will and control.
Eyes that searched mine for peace, finality,
Until the last flicker of reason was but a pale blue whisper,
Haunting me.
♦
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too.”
“We love each other.”
“Yes, we do.”
—
D. Price Williamson is a veteran, dad, lawyer, occasional writer, and wannabe outdoorsman and athlete. He lives in Pennsylvania with his wife, youngest daughter, and a silly dog named Isabel.
Twitter: @PriceWilliamson
Back Patio Press 