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birdmad
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a year before he died...
sitting in his wheelchair, cigarette in his mouth.
his body betraying him cell by cell, breaking down and failing
i sat in the chair next to him, he wanted to tell me something...
he wanted to do what he had not done for my brother or sisters before me...
he wanted to have "that talk"...you know the one, the one we really end up learning for ourselves...
i didn't have the heart to tell him that the path i had chosen some months before had already led me further down the road of experience than he might have thought me capable
Secretly, i think he might have been proud of that fact, had he known
at least from the point of knowing that i wasn't always either terribly shy or terribly anti-social
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000709
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