broken silence, broken heart

If you do not have something good to say, don't say anything at all.  

I've been feeling this statement lately.  I've stretched into long strings of silence.  For A Day I've Always Dreaded is near: the day I lose my SuperFred.  His skin is tissue paper, spotched with purple strains.  Rippled like dried tissue wrinkly showing its past wet experience.  He is being moved his home tomorrow, a deathbed set up for him with 24 hour care waiting for him in his living room so he can be in a familiar and happy place for his ending.  He will have lots of hand holdings and goodbyes to say over the next day(s) and we make sure he's comfortable . . . and let go.  

I've been writing privately.

Today in his apartment I found a first edition complete collection of Robert Frost poetry.  A dark photo of bare trees wrapped around the book-jacket, that shows the wear of preserving the remarkably good condition of Frost's words through fifty years of consistent movings.  Fred and June, my grandmother and one mate of my soul, relocated to exotic places with this book: St. Croix, Russia, Berlin, and onward.  This Golden Find made my heart spin and I took it with me without guilt or regret.  I know Fred understands and wants me to have it.  I have been pouring over Frost today, revisiting and exploring new words; a nice break from the school-shooting-centered novel I've been reading this week.  

(How delightfully cheerful, youmaysay but Hey! Nostradamus by Douglas Coupland is turning out to be a thoughtful and interesting novel.  Though I have to admit, I'm feeling a little at home with it's somber tones).

Before you go and feel a thing like pity, take my advise and don't waste the calories.  For he made it to his goal age at 93 (he wanted to outlive his mother and sister who lived to 92) and our family had a lovely last Christmas all together.  He has a wonderful girlfriend who is kind, interesting, intelligent, and loves him and simply enjoys his company.  His two boys have found their way and he got to see his two grand-daughters grow up.   He has lead of one the most interesting lives that I've ever encountered and charms every woman he meets, and wins over most men as well though he doesn't show them the same attention or effort.  He always has a twinkle in his eye, if you get a good look between his winks.

in my silence there are goodbyes and exhaledsighs.   contained within,  no trace of lie.

Spins