A resident in Memory Care has left us.
I remember her, not because of her personality,
but because she was always asking me to assist her.
I don't work there, but it didn't matter.
at least not to her.

She would gesture using her fingers and hands,
to call me over. I would politely decline and
ask an attendant to assist her.

Last Sunday, she was painting a picture using
watercolors. She was happy and
content. She passed away the next evening.
I will remember her face and her bright smile.
God bless you on your journey.

I would like you to talk to me,
like we used to do.
I need you more, now,
for I still love you.

What you are to me,
you were yesterday.
My first true love,
I love and I pray.

You are the light,
you are my soul.
I'll always love you,
as that is my role.

Flowers have grown leggy,
spilling over the side of the pots.
Can't cut them back as the
season moves into Fall.

I'm finding myself,
getting bored with many
of the activities for residents,
who need to be
guided into doing something
that is regulated.
Not for me. I'll write or go
for a walk, stop and talk with
others and water the garden.

I'm not here to do crossword
puzzles. I am here to listen to
music.

A sadness, creeps up on me,
as I think about all the times,
we lived together. The little
things, now big, differ.
Sleeping with each other, in
the same bed, for 66 plus years.
Now I haven't slept with you since
November 22. No room in the hospital
bed and at this point, neither of us
would sleep well. Saddens me.

I spent 6 hours with you today and
you slept. You awoke briefly, several
times and looked at me but didn't
say anything. Is this all that
is left of our wonderful life, together?
Appears to be. Now I would like to have
you pain free and happy.

Lamps are dim,
lights burning low.
I'm in a local bar,
no place to go.

I don't wish to drink
not even have a few,
for where I am,
there is nothing to do.

Don't want to shoot pool,
not good enough to,
I want to go home
and to be there with you.

There no longer exists
a memory of the past.
I sit with my beloved,
holding her hand, fast.

I do this for her
but also, for me,
for I know I'm losing her,
and my time will no longer be.

When she leaves this world,
full of anguish and pain,
then it will be
only I who remain.

Sitting on a camp stool,
close to the fire.
Coleman lanterns hanging
on tree limbs, by wires.

Early Fall in the Cascade foothills.
Not in the mountains,
based upon the elevation,
but canyons surrounded
by tall Fir and Tamarack trees.

A weekend outing, many
years ago. Crisp is the
first morning with frost,
appearing where there is water.

Soon the Sun rises, warming the air,
and patches of fog, will disappear.
The smell of the fire, mingles
with breakfast cooking on
a cast iron skillet.
A beautiful start for a glorious
day, in the outdoors.

Shop worn,
another word for used.
Does it matter if it happens,
in our life or are we excused?

I have noticed of late,
words do not flow.
I mentally tug and pull
but the words won't go.

I hope it is not
the depredation of my mind.
Not sure what I would do,
if my words became unkind.

Stop messing with
the words, in my head.
I'll do the writing,
please assure they're read.

Words will flow,
from this aging mind,
hopefully, words will be gentle
and not too unkind.

When words, read,
make you salivate,
perhaps they,
should be celibate.

Or a writing like this,
sometimes is unfortunate,
sorting through chaff,
as I pontificate.

An ideal dream,
at any rate.
Move forward now,
don't placate.