Gaunt, emaciated
Can’t hear, can’t see.
But skin soft, silky as ever
Imagination & drama alive, well.
From his Hospice cot, in his delerium
He abuses a taxi driver.
For weeks his hand gently held, caringly stroked.
As he talks, yells, laughs,imagines.
He breathes
Then, 21 years ago today …
He stops.
Note:
This memory is from 1991 and is outside the period it is meant to cover (up to my final year at school) but …
I was last to arrive at St Vincent’s Hospice on this day. Roger, Mum, Stephen & Phil were outside, on a balcony a little way from Peter’s room. I joined them. As we consoled each other someone announcement:
Max, we had a family meeting and decided the last to arrive today has to do a eulogy at the funeral.
We laughed. I did it … you can find it here.
365 Short Memories 