Coal for Winter

My Grandad is the subject of

many stories. so many, even before

his funeral. he passed on

so much inheritance as memories. Me,

I heard most of them from big cousins.

the grandest ones from aunts and uncles.

sometimes I think the tinder of

my ambitions is the context

given for the things

Grandad may have felt mundane.

I still have the image of gleeful

children, faces burnished by the

bronze glow of a couple hundred

dollars profit from penny candy

Grandad's store sold during

the week. I pick the sweetest parts and

unwrap them to taste the bittersweet of

not yet weeping. But I think of him.

I remember him surrounded

by his children, now grown,

as he lay handicapped in his

bed. propped pillows angling him

just between being participant and

subject of conversation. I

never could stay huddled close

to his fire. the others nearly had

their hands in and in comparison,

I was cold.

And I wonder if he felt that. the range

of his warmth failing to reach

younger generations. I admire him

but knew him well beyond his

twilight. the darkening of his mind

bringing shadows he never realized

he kept at bay. from his children

he still heard the stories but

the chill wind of deepening night

made him flicker in and out of

the tales. I think he would crackle

when he heard his name but

I wonder if he was giving up

on the middles just so he could

smile and flare, triumphant

that he reached the end. I wonder

if there was a night

that went too long

without someone raking the coals

and in the ashes insulating his

dimly smoldering mind he knew

that he would be alone long before

he became embers. the wind would

chase his children back into the shelters

he taught them to build. Good dad.

Grandad.

I woke up before the sun and

stepped out to find him cold.

not even smoke. and the EMTs

had already amiably dug him out

the pit. had the coal wrapped up

and placed on a gurney. my aunt

was the only one crying. I felt like

the EMTs should have come back

for her. she was the only one hurt.

I was numb. not dressed for this

weather. I only knew that the days

would be so much colder now.

It was November.

That's how winter started for me.