My grandpa came in for Thanksgiving. It's almost a five-hour drive from Texas. He and my grandmother have been divorced most of my mother's 46-year-old life. He said they were married when she was 17 and he was 19. He saw her for the first time since her illness. She was lying in bed staring blankly at him, no recognition in her eyes. He won't have much longer to live...the cancer has reached his bones. He couldn't even stay for Thanksgiving dinner...the pain was too unbearable and he left in tears. Before he left my grandmother's side, he said these words, "Dotty, I love you. I've always loved you. I'll see you soon on the other side." I barely know either of them. I lived most of my life without them being a part of it, but I am alive because they exist. I love them both and it will be so strange when they are gone. My grandpa said it is so much sooner than any of us think.
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When You Are Old
When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
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