Comeback

close up photography of four baseballs on green lawn grasses

Comeback

I’m picturing one of them reclined in his chair,

and the other one sitting on the couch
One with his slippered feet up, and a beer
One with a glass of pop, and a comfortable slouch

Both men wear their casual pants and golf shirts,
and both have intentionally short, completely gray hair
There’s a Jays game on, in the top of the eighth,
and a bowl of peanuts, that both of them share

I can hear their commentary after a pivotal play
Sharp criticism of the base-runner’s choices
Knowledgeable experience that fills their words,
And a youthful exuberance that joins their voices

The subtle jabs of friends are parlayed back and forth
Each ready for a comeback, as the other one slyly talks
“What could an old curler possibly know about baseball”
“You must’ve taken too many blows whenever you’d box”

The spirited rant transitions naturally during a commercial,
away from the second baseman and his prolonged slump
It turns seamlessly back to differing opinions of Trudeau,
and a sarcastically disdain-filled consensus on Trump

You would never know that they were fairly new friends
with the familiarity and the intensity of all they discuss
You wouldn’t suspect that they had met in their eighties
That they’d only met in this last year, and because of us

Their furrowed brows ease back into a playful twinkle
as their jostling conversation becomes their laughter
With a one-run deficit, in the bottom of the eighth,
they’ll find plenty of time for their wisdom, after

I see your father, reaching for the last of the peanuts,
then he pauses, and passes them to my dad instead
I see them sit up straight, suddenly, together in unison,
as a loud two-run homer puts their Jays ahead


I think about them often, when I watch with you

Whatever the sport, and whatever the season
Life has a way of putting good people together
And we are good people, for an obvious reason

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Remembered

Remembered

   I had a dentist appointment on Thursday. After I had parked my car I looked down at the ticket, and I remembered. 
   I felt a wave of anxiety come over me as I realized just where I was, and on what day. 
   I remembered, and I paused for a moment, before going up those stairs.
   I remembered, in a haze, as I sat, quiet in the dental chair.
I remembered many things in a rush of cold reality.

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I remembered that it was September the 10th.

I remembered that it was the date he died.
I remembered, thinking how fast that two years had gone by.

I remembered that this was where he had his fall.
I remembered getting the phone call at work.
I remember seeing him later that day at my sister’s.
I remembered how battered and bruised he was.
I remembered how shocked we were that he was released from emergency.
I remembered how proud and how stubborn he was.
I remembered just how much that I missed him.

I remembered two heart wrenching weeks in the hospital. 
I remembered the dedication of Dorry.1174411_721955574497380_563150802_n
I remembered the strength and humour of Gerry.
I remembered the seesaw of conversations with Tim.
I remembered the innocent sincerity of Anna and Erin.
I remembered the love and support, and soft hands of Lana.

I remembered his amazing comeback.
I remembered his helpless confusion.
I remembered when we decided to let him go.
I remembered saying goodbye.
I remembered picking out a casket.


I remembered dinner the night before the funeral
I remembered the breathtaking sky above Lake Huron.
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I remembered all of us staying at the same hotel.
I remembered the stories and drinks, smiles and tears.

I remembered what I wrote for the graveside.
I remembered that Lana had to read it for me.
I remembered my girls holding each of my hands.

I remembered, smiling, that Alec was there too.
I remembered people leaving for the airport.
I remembered saying goodbye.

I remembered looking back as we drove out of town.

As I stepped down from the chair, our dentist Dave, I am sure unaware of the date or circumstances, asked me to “say hi to the girls” for him…and he said, “I miss having your father Norm come to see me”.
Again I paused, and he knew just how much that meant as his eyes caught mine.
“Me too Dave.”  I closed the door behind me.

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