I’ve known Mr. Jones for many years
Him and his wife lived in the same house for decades
They were sociable when they needed to be
But they preferred being at home usually
It’s incredible seeing how much they’ve changed
Mrs. Jones used to be a bit distant and cold
When she got older she was warm and engaging with others
As for Mr. Jones, well, you could say he got worse
Of course, I didn’t know him when he was younger
But in his mid-life age, he was funny, at times, and even caring
But he was never pleasant to be around when angered
They had 3 children who eventually moved out of the house
Mostly because they couldn’t stand being there so long
Over time, Mrs. Jones realized this and made some changes
Knowing life was getting shorter and wanted to leave happy
They may never accept blame, but would it matter if they did?
Around the time Mrs. Jones died at age 80, her husband was already worse
As his memory faded so, too, did his relationships around him
Though he was sociable, he was never outgoing to have friends
He often blamed his wife for many things when in reality it was him
He didn’t keep in touch with his siblings as they passed on
And he wasn’t tech-savvy to communicate with his children
Nor did they visit often since they always left frustrated
I noticed this upon my time taking care of Mr. Jones
When I saw how much he struggled taking care of himself
Hurting to stand up, forgetting his medications, not eating well
Among many other things, I will admit I felt bad
At first, he was adamant he didn’t want help
But he soon gave in and allowed me to come back daily
I’m certain he missed having a companion around
He once said he wished all three of his kids would come back
Before it became too late and things remained fractured
Yet from what I’ve observed, the first two simply couldn’t
They found it unbearable to be around him
His remarks, his old-fashioned beliefs, his political talks
That was all he could discuss besides repeating memories
The youngest child I’m not sure how he felt about him
I don’t even know some days how I put up with him
His age also led to a quicker temper and only I was there to hear
Some days he would wish an early death upon himself
His conversations would grow tiresome but I partook
All the while I told myself to keep him company no matter what
I even visited him in the hospice when I no longer was useful
I was his only visitor when he stayed there
Near the end of his days I noticed something
He was crying which is the first time I’ve ever seen this
He regretted many things he has done in his life
Wishing he could’ve changed it for the better
How he treated people and how he acted
In the end he asked me to tell his children he’s sorry
Sorry for not being the dad they hoped for
It is a shame he forgotten how they looked
Unfortunately I was unable to tell them any of this
Because no one showed up to his funeral
All who was there was the priest and I, his caretaker
He imagined a full house of family to bid farewell
But only the truth arrived which was unwelcomed
I knew it would happen though but it’s okay
He’s finally at peace like he wanted for so long
Who knows where he is or who he hopes to see
The family that remains may come visit one day
Maybe they can even reunite before it’s too late
As the priest walked away on this rainy afternoon
I stood before the tombstone of Mr. Jones one last time
And in the end all I could say was, “You may have not been
perfect, but you tried your best with your family. Hopefully they see that.
Now you can finally rest, and no longer have to suffer”
Before leaving, I tucked an old family photo I found onto his grave
It was one of the few possessions he had kept all these years
A photo where his children were younger; the youngest an infant
It was the only photo where everyone was together and happy
And on that rainy afternoon, I placed that memory on the stone
Looked at him and said, “Goodbye dad.”, before walking away. . .
Novatourist 