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Questions I Never Asked My GrandfatherMy grandfather sits in a wheelchair by the window in the old people's home with his chin leaned into his chest, mumbling incessantly and unintelligibly to himself and drooling a little from the right corner of his mouth. Mom can't come here anymore. She just breaks down at the sight of him so I sometimes come by myself and sit with him in silence for a while.
It's a sad end to a long and hard life, and I morbidly think to myself that if a political party stepped forth now with the legalization of euthanasia on its agenda, I'd vote for it. After two strokes and a hemorrhage, topped with severe senile dementia, what is the point of letting people exist like robots? I know grandpa thought the same. Before his speech was impaired, he often said that the pacemaker was one of his biggest mistakes, and that people should be allowed to go when it was time to go.
Terrible as it sounds, I'm already starting to think about the obituary that I, having the best way with words in my branch of the fa
Secrets of the PastThe memories retreat, teasingly, like the girls from his youth
but the Past, a pregnant mistress, awaits her chance
to reveal the by-blows of their juvenile romance,
unacknowledged by him, who so carefully concealed the truth.
He has lived in self-deception for so long,
he barely remembers, but knows he was wrong.
Now the time has come for his swansong,
he must perform an overdue penance
and pay the Past her child maintenance.
The Secrets are Bastards, the consequences of the crime.
They've grown restless and prepared to gather,
to seek out and to terrorize their father,
who will only accept them when he is running out of time.
Only when guilt starts to take an unbearable toll,
only when overcome with fear for his errant soul,
only then will he surrender and look at the whole,
omitting nothing, and, in finding peace,
the persecution of the Past will cease.
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