Journal
Roger LeaI walk in and sit down in the first row, looking at the casket in front of the green carpeted room, with rows and rows chairs that seemed to go on forever. The room seems to get smaller with each breath I take. Looking at the rich Oak casket with the gray haired man, I see his matching mustache. His loss of weight from the years of his failing health could not be seen. His face has wrinkles from years of smiling. I want to shake him and make him to open those eyes I inherited, to hear his voice telling me it is all a sick joke, that he is going to be sitting in his blue Lazy Boy the next time I visit. Sadly, this is real, he is gone. I still want those camping trips with Grandma and my buddy, who ate a whole box of donuts for breakfast with me; the man who would be sitting in his blue Lazy Boy watching the news as I walked down the stairs. As soon as I got down, he would say, “Walk quieter down the stairs!” I feel as though a dam finally broke, and all the feelings are flooding out through my eyes. All the little things my grandfather did, and the memories of all the good and bad would never be forgotten from this day forward. Goodbye, Roger Lea (Comma With Direct Address). You will never be forgotten.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
January 2018
Categories |