Words of the wind

A phantom life

Did he ever actually exist?

I cannot recall his face

His passing is engraved in my memory though.

.    .   .   .

One sad Wednesday

Of a certain year

At 12:08

His heart stopped beating.

I was sitting at the stool placed right next to the left side of his bed

I comped his hair

His white curls were lost within my hands

I cleaned his chops with wet wipes

And told him how handsome he was

A smile was painted on his aged canvas of a face

Then I touched his hand

It was somewhat cold

But he was still breathing

 

A tear, two tears

 

I instinctively wiped them away with a handkerchief

He turned towards me and nodded his head in gratitude

His eyes fell upon my own

And stayed there for what seemed to be an eternity

 

“Was this your farewell?”

 

3 more minutes

178 seconds

Or 176000 more milliseconds

The numbers keep rising

As the time shortens

 

--what a tragicomedy--

 

I believe he knew the end was coming

And he was preparing for the long trip to the other side of the lake

His immersive gaze transfixed my whole body

And all I did was to stare back at him

He took a deep breath

Then another

And a third one

Then another

…........

Silence emerged

A kind of silence you’d never ask for.