That Brick Wall

The brick wall was plain,

Red bricks,

Deep grey cement darkened by my tears,

As the nurse lets me in she told me your health status, grandpa,

You were lying on your bed with the back tilted up, as always,

You tried to get up but couldn’t manage,

You still greeted me with your thunderous voice,

But when I shook your hand it was different,

Before leukemia it was strong and energetic,

You,

But this time, there was nothing,

Before leukemia I could feel the blisters on your hands from years of gripping a hammer,

This made me see the man that you were,

But that was then,

Gauze and tape covered the bend in your arm from the wound of an IV drip

My eyes were focused on your pale skin,

I reminisced upon the time when your skin was tan

You were sitting on the roof putting shingles down the summer before and got a dark tan

You noticed me staring at the gauze on your arm

I fake a smile when you tell me ‘gettin’ old ain’t for sissies’ your famous quote

But this wasn’t just getting old,

And you were far from a sissy

We watched as the Syracuse Orange scored a touchdown and cheers came through the speakers

The silence in the room is deafening when the TV flicked off,

When I looked in your direction you told me how tall I’ve gotten

My conscience forces me to smile,

When all I wanted to do is cry

After we said our goodbyes I made for the door

I turned back in the doorway and the world stood still

I was making sure I’d remember you if that was the last chance we’d see each other

Who was I kidding?

You’d been in my life for fifteen years

The green algae in the water while we were fishing reminded me of your youth

Feeling the blisters on your hand from years of holding a hammer made you the man that you were

The man who could fix everything, grandpa,

That’s what I hear when see you in my mind

And this is how I want to remember you,

In a hospital?

You were sitting at the end of your bed in a room of white staring at it again,

That blank, red wall, the only color left in your life.