my son, my father

The phone call.

Your grandson asked if that was you who had just called. He asked if heaven had telephones. I told him no and watched as the sadness entered his heart. I explain that you are gone. I explain that you will never return.
“I can’t speak to him?”
“No.”
He looks at me. He cries. He holds me tighter, as if trying to squeeze you from me. And as the tears finally fall from my eyes. How I wish I could make that call for both of us.



2nd February 2010