Contemplations from My 90-year-old Dad

There’s no graceful way to ease out of this world. Water floods the walls around the heart. Breathing is labored. Kidneys refuse to function. Doctors shake their heads. Say you’re in a pickle. You know. By the way you shuffle clumsily across the floor. By the way your arms turn the color of ripe plums when you so much as bump a butterfly. But food tastes good most of the time, if you eat the things they tell you not to. There are still a handful of decent shows on TV. If you’re lucky, you’ll slip away in your sleep.