I wrote this poem in my journal in October 2004, when I started volunteering at Wesbury United Methodist Home Health Care Center. A nursing home for the aged.
Part of the duties as a collegiate volunteer was a daily round to talk to tome of the residents, many of whom were widows, widowers, or forgotten by their family and loved ones.
There was a man who I did have the honor of getting to know, his name was Charlie. A man in his 80s.
Though he was aged, his memory was strong: the conversations we had was multifaceted. From his experience in World War II (Pacific Theater), to his children, wife, loved ones, former loves, farming days, life in Ohio, growing up during the great depression, and to the current era.
It was therapy for him to be heard. And it was enlightening for me to listen and listen and have a 'peak' into his life.
He passed away a couple of months later. But he is not forgotten, for his life story is etched in my book, and in my mind.
And I am now sharing it with you all.
Charles, who is no more, lives on through a poem, and his former love did not leave him. Till his dying breath.
It is funny, how in the end, we never really forget our 'first love' or 'old sweethearts'.
In the end.
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Topic: To The Lonely Old Man (Read 1229 times)