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.