It's a mystery to note
that despite how advanced in age we are
still we earnestly strive to survive, preserve
at all costs this physical entity

My sister, Vivien and I
watched vicariously
as our 91 year old Father
tubes plugged in every orifice and cavity
sat gripping the edge of his hospital bed
gasping for air

We didn't know it then, but he was suffering
a mild heart attack
mentally, tenderly we massaged
his Spirit with prayers

I thought to myself
how difficult it is to convince yourself
that you are not this body
while warm blood and passions rush
through veins and brick by brick
from birth we carefully construct,
insulate, protect, pamper and cater to
the whims and demands of this
terra firma

I stared numbly as hospital staff
wheeled Dad away for further tests
Emergency room visits were
fast becoming a regular ritual
Intravenous bags hang
heavy black nimbus clouds
stingily dispensing one last drop of mortality

my heart a stone sinking in my chest
plummeted with a thud into a bottomless
inky pool
so many poignant, familial memories
rowing merrily across the paper thin
surface of Life's fragile dream

I could sense my mother's intangible presence
close by  
soft brown sepia eyes gazing tenderly
through the partially drawn diaphanous veils
chariots swinging low

father's condition is stable now
though they released him for the holidays
the appellation, "Comeback Charlie"
our nickname for his extraordinary
resilience and vigor
didn't have quite the same ring
something missing, that spark, stolen
reflected in hollow, vacant
jack-o-lantern eyes

I prayed as we prepared a tropical
fruit basket to cheer him up
that he would clearly see
an Angel not a thief
standing eternally by his side