Remember, always remember . . .

I sat next to him. It wouldn’t be long. My grandfather laying there. He had asked for me, and no one else. I was the only one he could remember. His hand felt warm, and he told me to listen carefully. I did, but I watched also. White hair, worn out pajamas, sunken eyes, emaciated body, the old smell of being worn out. A nightstand full of pain pills. A worn out stereo playing the oldies. A smile on his face as he mouthed the words oblivious of me for the moment. A tumor was taking him, and it was apparent. His mind was the victim. There would be no operation.

“Grandson,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much. But there is this one thing haunting me. A message I’d guess. I forget everyone and everything, but you and this. Remember, always remember, time will show you lies, so the key is to always be happy. Deal with what comes along over time, but always be happy. There’s no other point.”

I knew he was right, but it’s a hard path to always follow. I put his hand down, kissed him on the forehead hoping to erase the tumor.