The art of fading isn't hard to master.
As I walked out to my 2005 Honda Accord
The seductive smell of smoke and stale coffee
Laid heavy upon my skin.
It was 30 degrees out
Or less
But after the bitter winter
It felt like spring.
Your voice rang in my head, sirens
Even though it was hushed
The tongue that used to roar like rivers
Was now silent like the pond.
"Hey, Dad, want to talk to Sarah?"
I heard my father's voice coax you like a child
Life is so funny that way
That at the beginning, you take care of your children
And at the end, they take care of you.
I hear your voice on the end of the line
It sounds like you are talking through a straw
Tears filled my eyes
Now my cheeks were the river your mouth used to be.
I squeaked out
"I love you, Pop Pop."
Among other things.
Maybe God was holding my hand that day
Because above the heavy breathing and scratches on the end of the line
The only words I heard clearly were
"I love you."
The art of fading isn't hard to master.
But the art of watching someone fade
Is more of a challenge.