Sitting beside you in the bed,
talking with you as the TV plays
on in the background—
you act like you’re not there,
yet I’m looking right at you.
You look as if you’re lost—
not knowing what is going on,
and yet you can still call me by name,
you haven’t forgotten me,
that makes me smile.
You no longer have interest
in doing anything other
than just sitting there—
but you still tell stories, though some
may not make sense.
You ask questions a lot, always
wondering why something is happening—
yet sometimes still not understanding.
You sit there, sometimes a prisoner
of your own mind— prisoner of the
disease that has begun to take over—
fleeting memories struggling to hold on.
You were a man of great strength,
in both the physical and mental sense,
but now you stay in your bed or your chair,
sometimes in a daze of confusion.
You were a man I learned so much from,
you were a man of power, confidence, and
determination— but that man has faded away.
I just wish i knew where to find him,
just to have five more minutes with you—
but I’m quick to remember all the memories
I share with you— every cherished moment.
You were the first person aside from
my parents to hold me,
how I reached out to you—
you were the one to take me fishing at the lake,
helped me build a miniature house for an art project,
taught me basic home maintenance,
introduced Spanish music to me—
it was you who helped guide me into
the man that I am today.
Only now those memories are my stories
to tell you.
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