Every now and then he comes to occupy my thoughts and dreams like he’s there. Every now and then I relive his tragedy and remind myself of the glorious life he lived to solace the sadness at the end.
I watched how he willed a dying flower, cut from its mother plant, to live. Every morning he would water and replenish it, until even the pink slowly seeped out and turned into a peaceful white. I watched how he slowly became a prisoner in his own body. I watched how his great mind was fighting and quickly failing. I stopped watching and only listened. Now I wait for him in my thoughts and dreams.
