I was thinking about all the people I know who are dead.
All the stuff - the things they said, the things they did, their station in life. How important they were ... at the time. Where has all their piled up wealth now?
Now they are dead.
I remember some of them.
Some of them.
I might be the only one who does.
But then ...
I am like a dead man, forgotten,
like a thing thrown away.
I was thinking about my sister today, how sick she was and how she cried for a hairbrush when I called to find out what color notebooks she wanted. She sounded like a small child who was very upset, crying and barely able to get the words out and asked if I was at Walmart; when I asked what she needed, she said a hairbrush so I told her I was near a Walgreens and would get her a hairbrush...then she asked "and ponytail holders?" And I bought a detangling comb. It took her three days to brush her waist-length hair that hadn't been touched in a couple of weeks because she was way too sick. In hospice care they had somebody coming to help her with that but she was much more comfortable than when she was in the hospital.
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