What's A Son To Do?

At the table
A darkened computer monitor
A trusted friend of late
Stared back at an old man's face
Propped up by withered hands
Supporting the blank reflection

Time's map was now sallow of spent harvest
Purple veins of swollen tributaries
Spidered across the leathery landscape
Once of vibrant color
Now but survival in raised relief
Remnants of a once mountainous climb
Now simply time's sand awaiting its final dune

How might it be
To reflect upon one's lifetime of grist
See the roots of age separating
One's capillaries completely emerged
A corroded shield once handsome
Now a decaying canvas
Stretched tight over facial bones protruding
From sunken erosions of yesterday

Such is the lost look of wishing

I asked him how it felt
His lucidity waning
He said he just liked staring at the monitor
Visiting

After all
He told me
It was just the other day
When I heard the Charleston
Drifting around in the dark
Remember that Helen?
He said
Remember?

Dad

Mom's not here anymore

He lowered his head onto the desk
Smiled and closed his eyes
Helen darling
You danced the Charleston for me
Don't you remember?

Sadness seeped through his eyelids
It's okay sweetheart
He said
It's just your memory

Remembering back through my own mist filled vision
I placed a pillow under his head