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  • (Preface: These thoughts matured after good hot toddies with a good friend.)

    When we converse with, think of, or even just look at another human being the notion, "You're going to die some day" isn't often on our minds' forefront. It is accepted (by most conscious adults) that, yes, we will all pass on and leave this world, but it is rare for us to really SEE that finality within each other.

    In terms of my father it is hard for me to see anything else.

    When I was a child my dad was more Force than Man. He was over eight feet tall, had a voice that could make God bow, and his hands could literally move mountains.

    Then I blinked.

    After opening my eyes I saw him differently. He was smaller; hair that had once been jet black is now salt and pepper. His voice is unsteady; he has doubts. Those hands that once turned coal into diamonds now shake while holding a pen.

    I took a breath.

    Winter has fallen; he only has white hair. The inferno has been muted to a flicker, and his eyes are becoming dull. Stairs are a challenge now. He is sick.

    No longer Force. Not quite a Man. The walls remain even after the kingdom collapsed. What will I say when he is gone?

    I dare not blink. I dare not breathe.

    (End note: More hot toddies, please.)
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