by R. Gerry Fabian
After the death of my paternal grandmother,
my father began to drink a little more
and gaze a little farther into the distance.
Strange, since his father’s death just surprised him.
Now, his jokes have become clever instead of crude
and all that intense hurry that was his trademark
leaves him like a totally exorcised spirit.
He begins talking about the weather and family reunions.
He learns the names of each of his grandchildren.
Suddenly, he calls on the phone for no reason at all.
The biggest shock is that he begins hugging
all the relatives; no matter how distant.
The idea that he is an orphan
doesn’t sit well with him, at all.
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