Metamorphosis Two

My Grandpa is almost 90.
He is tired, in every possible way.
His memory went to bed a few years ago,
and his body is following suit.

February 2011

Mad Rush

I played blackjack at a casino, in college.
Unfortunately, I walked out up eighty bucks
which gave me confidence & hubris to play again.

Next time, I lost thirty-five and
felt like I'd taken a cigarette lighter to my cash.
And soul.

The numbers were up, numbers were down.
Played the odds, got lucky, but The House always wins,
I hear.

Wichita Vortex Sutra

Feel sometimes I am on a precipice,
surrounded by a Massive Dynamic network of family I adore,
and the odds are slowly, inevitably beginning to tilt the other way: the wrong way.

I have never been hit - truly hit - at a gut wrenchingly personal, intimate level, by the
very worst life has to offer:

divorce.
betrayal.
estrangement.
suicide.
death in general.

I have experienced those things happening to people I care about
greatly, but not personally, at the level of a

brother,
sister,
parent,
child,
or grandparent.

November 2004

There is not a Vegas oddsman who would stick
even money on my Grandpa making it out of 2012 on his feet.

Bob Becraft.

He is my grandfather; also, he is my mom's dad.

Once Upon a Time in the West

What is it like to see a parent go?
And go slow?

He has returned to a state of infancy; a
state where he now relies on his own
offspring to care for him in the way a
parent would care for a newborn child.

November 2010

I wonder what he thinks, behind tired, so tired eyes
that seem to process nothing,
save erratic flickers of cognition
memory synapses rising their drowning heads
above surface for quick gasps,
then losing, diving underneath to gray void.

July 2011

Mystery of Love

His companion, wife of 65+ years, clutching his
hand, whispering, lifelong worrywart, now with
something truly monumental to worry about.

Her mind, outpacing his by a mere quarter lap, and
their race is a marathon.

November 2007

Big My Secret

I wish I knew more about him.

I wish he would have talked more,
when he could talk.

I wish my Mom could have a memory
of him telling her how beautiful
she is.

August 1973

She is.

I wonder if he is ever sad, inside, at not.

Strange, talking about someone in the past tense
while they're still alive.

He was:

kind
stubborn
loyal
loving

Concerning the UFO Sighting...

I have a friend who lost his dad in a car crash.

Almost crying thinking about it.
I cannot,
CANNOT
imagine.

I really suck at dealing with death.
Selfish. I don't want to see people die; I want to go first so
I don't have to deal with it;
the grief.

But I know no one's ever ready; no one
wants to, or is prepared to deal.

They just do. They learn to. I just feel my life has been so sheltered, so blessed, so immune to the horrors striking others, that

it's going to hit me so effing hard when it's my turn.

Selfish, so selfish.

Metamorphosis Four

What is left of someone when they're gone?
Some words, some pictures.
A storage shed with a million cardboard boxes.

1944

Everybody lives life differently. I wish my Grandpa

could talk about his regrets,
his failures,
his successes,
mostly,
his feelings in general.

My children will have a small collection of photographs and video clips of them with their great-grandparents.

December 2010

Someday, they will treasure them; a lifeline to their lineage and history, interactions they will see
physical evidence of, but likely have no actual memory of…

My heart is filled with love for my Grandpa,
and also frustration,
for the conversations we never had

Vivere

His quiet manner is venerated by some,
stuck on a pedestal,
but I wonder how much of his
"quiet dignity" was by choice,

June 2006

and how frustrated he was with himself over his extreme…quietness.

He had a sense of humor, and sometimes
someone like my dad, pushing his buttons,
could bring that out. The grin, the chuckling,
the classic practical joke.

(think: Oreo filling replaced with toothpaste)

Suite 3 in D

I wonder what he could change, if he could.

What was he afraid of?

Tomorrow, I will be a day closer to death, as we all will be.
What will I fill my day with? What sort days will my life be filled with?

I just want my days to be filled with

love,
and joy,
and Adventure,
creating an Identity where I can be myself and
help others to do the same,
drink coffee (which Grandpa would never do),
find ways to creatively express the love I have
for my family, for God, for existence, for the world,

through Art, and Film, and Words,
and Actions.

My Grandpa sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps, day and night; right now, it is fair to assume he is nestled in bed,
spooning with my Grandma,
and maybe dreaming of a brighter world.