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In Loving Memory

Goodnight my sweet. Today is your funeral.

You are surround by those that love you.  By those that carry the same twinkle in their eyes and cheeky smiles that say they might be up to something (I am a proud owner of one as well).

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In my mind you are still shuffling about your home, going about your daily tasks, making your bed immaculately, dressing yourself dapperly and making yourself tea and toast.  In hurts the most when I realize I'll never find you doing these things again.

You were my friend.  I am so grateful for our time together.  For the weeks and weekends we spent together.  Respecting each other's space, and joining for trips to antique markets, for meals and conversations about your golden years.  You always told me to marry rich, and I always responded with a smile and told you that I would become rich instead.

You always knew when something was wrong.  You noticed when my relationship was suffering.  When I'd lost a few too many pounds.  The concern in your face made me want to be better.

You loved my cooking and wanted to be healthier.  I'd make you diet plans and you would do your best, sneaking in a few extra drinks and a slice of apple pie.  You told me it would be easier if I lived with you...but would later admit that the young should never waste their youth caring for the elderly.  That life was made to be lived.

We drank whiskey together, and you taught me the sin of mixing a better blend with my Diet Coke.  I took notes.  I mixed with the cheap stuff in your cozy little den.  It was my favourite escape from the city.

When you were more mobile we would go on dates.  Usually to Swiss Chalet where you would flirt with the waitresses, but occasionally for finer feasts.  We'd both dress up and I felt like you were proud to be seen with me.  When I was making enough money I bought us a steak dinner and you seemed so impressed.

When I ended my short lived marriage you were proud of me.  For someone so old fashioned I realized you still knew how to put your heart first.  You knew I wasn't happy.

I often watched you with Nannie.  While you were both known to fight and drive each other crazy, I caught so many moments of tenderness that I knew there was more to it.  The way you'd make her tea and porridge.  When you held her hand in the car.  The way your face lit up when you talked about your first years together (many dirty jokes ensued).

I saw the best in you.  I didn't see much of you in your last years due to distance, but also because I wanted to remember the best of you.  You were not meant to grow old without grace.  And when your health was failing you and you felt like you were losing everything you worked so hard for, I know your pride suffered.  I didn't want to see you without that twinkle.

The last time we spoke on the phone you said "I love you pet."  We made each other laugh.  You really were my friend, and no matter where you are you always will be.

I'm not at your funeral.  The flights were complicated, and like you, sometimes I deal with things better alone.  I liked being alone with you.  I can't describe how much I'm going to miss that.

I know you knew how much I loved you.  And I'm going to keep making a good life for myself in your honour.  By putting love first, by knowing my worth, by taking care of my health, by making a good living for myself and making the bed every morning (you once critiqued my bed making skills, I'm working on it).  I'm going to dress well, make as many inappropriate jokes as possible, and drink better whiskey.  I'm going to write poetry.  One day raise children that I'll adore.  Maybe I'll even flirt with a waiter or two.

Rest well my sweet.  You'll be with me with every cup of tea at three in the morning, whenever I need to find a little more pride, in all of my twinkle and in every star in the sky.

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Poor old man You liked to mutter to yourself You did not like getting old And in fact it did not suit you. You were a man Of success and high expectations, Of fine suits, And fine libations, Who spoke to women With a twinkle in your eye. Poor old man I wish you could Have stayed young a little longer but I know it was your time to go. And maybe a part of me is glad For your stubborness In your last years. You never gave up your cars, Your big home, Or flirting with the nurses, Because inside something was still young. I will miss you and your routines, Our cups of tea at three in the morning, Our many shared meals; How we shared a restless mind And heart. My poor old man, Thank you for loving me, And telling me, And not judging me When my life fell apart around me. You were my friend. You always will be. Poor old man I hope somewhere You are dancing And flirting with a twinkle in your eye. When I look up you will be The brightest star Lighting up the sky.