Elbow – Scattered Black and Whites
Hours before he passed on, he reflected on his life. Eighty-four years old and hadn’t accomplished a truly meaningful thing.
Yes, he has a legacy. Children and grandchildren to keep the heritage going. But is that really what it‘s all about?
There was so much more he wanted to do. Unfortunately, all he dealt with in the last years of his life were diseases and illnesses.
The family was all gathered together. And he was telling me stories about the war and lost friends. Also, about his love for poetry.
He sat on his rocking chair in front of the fireplace in his cabin in the woods. Smoked his last cigar. Recited Richard III, a poem by Allen Ginsberg that had to do with reading Shakespeare in the middle of the night.
I think he thought he could try and achieve that too.
So he asked me to get him a pen and paper.
Then his heart just faded away.