we remember him

 

Bob Winton

I am at an age

where death is not a distant reality,

like low thunder from far away,

it is more the nearby flash,

quickly followed by a bone-shaking reality,

slapping me that my next moment is not guaranteed,

I just heard that one of the great lights

with whom I have shared too few moments,

is gone now, 

his body reeled from the quick flash

that had his name on it,

at least they had the time

for family to gather and work to say to him,

however they could, how much he is them,

how much they honor him as best they can,

with the smile on their own faces,

the boyish gleam in his eyes reflected in how 

they mirror that gleam with their own eyes,

to mirror his excited curiosity in life itself,

in their sureness to live their lives well,

to be as true to themselves as Bob was,

to keep him alive in their memories

and in how they touch the world,

the days are darker now,

as the sun slips to the south,

and Bob slips away, too,

when the sun comes up tomorrow,

I will think of Bob

and celebrate the light he was, 

and still is for us,

who remember him.

by Henry H. Walker

November 13, ‘22

image of Bob courtesy of his obituary