Ensanguining the skies
How heavily it dies
Into the west away;
Past touch and sight and sound
Not further to be found,
How hopeless under ground
Falls the remorseful day.
― A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad

 

I have to remember that evenings are more difficult for Papa than any other time of day – except early mornings. And for a man that rarely sleeps and when he does it’s in an easy chair upright and not in a bed, night and morning have very little delineation.

But this particular Sunday I had come home from an outing alone – a rare occasion – to find Papa and Victor enjoying the unseasonably warm late afternoon sitting out on the back lawn in patio chairs. I joined them with a glass of wine. We were finishing a lively conversation, hearing stories of the many celebrities Papa had met along his career as a journalist for Hachette Rusconi media. As the sun was just balancing above the pine trees I mentioned I had to run to Stop and Shop for a quick second. Papa’s eyes lit up. The grocery store was like Disney World to him. A cavernous array of interesting colors, food, and people. I missed the window of opportunity to avert my eyes and move quickly toward the garage. Too late, our eyes connected and his eyebrows wiggled up into his brow comically.

“Hmmm” he hummed melodically.

I laughed. “Want to come along?” I asked rhetorically.

“Oh yes!” He jumped from his seat in a motion uncharacteristic for an 80 yr old man.

On the drive down, Papa continued to share memories of celebrity interactions from his vast history.

I never even thought of the time.

One the second aisle of our trek through Stop and Shop heaven, Papa picked up a can of something – I can’t even remember what it was- and held it up like a fine specimen in front of his cataract clouded eyes.

“Ah, I’ve had this when I was in Samantha.”

I stopped pushing the cart.

Papa stood frozen, holding the can in the air where his eyes had been. But now he was looking at me in a dazed panic.

Make him laugh, I thought.

I smiled widely “Papa, who is Samantha and why were you eating food while you were in her?”

His brow furrowed “Papa, why would I say Samantha. Where did I live before this?” He chuckled.

“Meriden, Papa. You lived in Meriden.”

“Ah so. Yes. Meriden. Why Samantha?”

“I don’t know, Papa, maybe an old girlfriend.”

When we arrived home, I mentioned dinner in an hour. Papa went up to his room. I went up an hour later to let him know dinner was ready. He looked up from his movie, surprised to see me.

“Papa, why are you still here? Don’t you need to go home to cook for your husband?”

The sun had fully set.