His room was small, cramped.
Just enough gap between the furniture to navigate to the door.
He smiled. “Sorry, I know I have too much furniture”.
“I would love to have a bigger room, and some outside space”.
“Maybe not a garden, perhaps a large patio where I could sit outside”.
“I would love to spend time outside, in nature”.
“Yes, I know I wouldn’t be able to see it. But I could sense the space”.
I handed him his long white stick after we helped him stand up.
“The big tablet is for my stomach.
But it makes me feel sick.
So I take the little one to stop that.
But that makes me itchy.
So the cream is for the itch.
The red and green one?
No idea what that’s for. I take two a day”.
So many tablets on the side table now.
Bottles, packets, strips out of boxes.
The print too small to read.
No longer any room for the cup and plate to rest.
Using a lap tray instead.
Was it four of the green ones and two of the white ones?
Or four of the white, and two of the green?
Best not take any.
The slip-ons made sense.
Too hard to bend and tie laces now.
Elasticated sides made the trousers more comfortable too.
Feeling the cold more these days, but watching the cost of the heating.
A thick cardigan should do the job, no point wasting money.
There might be a nice one in the charity shop.
A good enough reason to go out for a walk.
One dead bird, on the path outside.
But many thousands in the sky.
Where do they all go?
When they die.
Should she ring the ambulance?
She didn’t like to bother them.
After all, they were busy, and had better things to do.
But the pain in her chest wasn’t going away.
She took two paracetemol and went to bed with a cup of hot milk.
That should settle it.
They found her body two weeks later.
That snowy day was clear and crisp.
My breath came in short gasps.
Hands and feet cold.
In wet gloves, and inadequate shoes.
The brightness hurt my eyes.
But I enjoyed that day like no other before.
A Mynah Bird in a small cage.
Jumping from perch to perch.
It didn’t seem natural to me.
They had taught it to swear.
And fell about laughing when it did.
I wanted to set it free.
Who knew, when they started blogging.
That other bloggers could become great friends.
Never met, never spoken to. No matter.
But no less cared for and loved.
And their loss no less heartbreaking.
(In memory of Sue Vincent)
That last goodbye.
Now where was that?
After the restaurant meal?
Following that heated argument one night?
Perhaps that last phone call was the time?
All blurry now. Specifics forgotten.