Written In Passing

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So what if instead of a post there is mostly silence?

A photograph and silence, and just a few words only, to go with them.

A few days ago I spoon-fed my grandfather soup with a teaspoon.

It was a wonderful experience.

And I hope that perhaps one day my grandson will spoon-fed me as well.

What more can one ask for?

He cannot speak, though he mumbled my name.

Other than that, he sleeps like a log,

Drifting between semi-consciousness and a comatose state.

โ€œItโ€™s night,โ€ he mumbled.

He cannot open his eyes.

After a certain age, people become like old babies, I guess,

Some of them at least;

They want to return to the womb, the womb of the Earth.

Like the Russian greats above:

Quite dead for a century, yet still alive,

In print.

Our blogs could outlast us – they are not subject to decay.

Isn’t that an uneasy thought?

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10 thoughts on “Written In Passing

  1. This was a surreal and beautiful piece of prose, Vincent. “They want to return to the womb, the womb of the earth.” I have never read anything more eloquent. I suppose it is slightly uneasy that our blogs could outlive us, but also uplifting in a way, that we won’t totally be forgotten.

  2. I actually love that my words will outlast me!
    My dad passed without pain and completely coherent. I hope your grandfather has an equally peaceful transition. ๐Ÿ™‚

  3. I am new to this world of wordpress. Also, it is my first and the only blog. I started it just a few months back. I wanted to ask you, how do people get to know about our blogs here? On wordpress?
    I can see that you have been blogging for long. So i request to help me with this. ๐Ÿ™‚

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