His greying ears flick as flies attempt to land. A nose once moist, is now cracked and dry. Parched he lies there, waiting to die and we wait with him, not knowing how to make the time pass more pleasantly for either of us. One eye sunken, in sharp relief, his breath rank, jaw drooling, reminding us all of the penalty of old age.
But I can’t hold him now. Soon he will be gone and a part of us along with him. Eight year old memories trapped forever in time,with a life that a family was founded upon and the son she bore. His brown and white body always so lithe and strong lays awkwardly now, shallow breaths come slower. Eyes that if on a human, I would say crinkle at the edges when he smiles, yet he doesn’t smile-he lies waiting and we with him, waiting, waiting for him to die.
It is a reminder that time does not stand still, many years were wasted for me not him. He loved when we could not, he gave when we forgot and there he stayed protecting, loving, being there always. Soon he will not, soon he will be gone and a part of us with him.