A Son's GriefIt was not real, never happened, was all in a movie, just a film. One-half score. The beginning. A bright, calm, quiet morning, down the hall, one look, one moment, the last one: a railroad covered stomach. Walked down the hall, but stayed there, walked into the room, laid on the bed and left with you. One-half score. Waiting for the car to pull up or the phone to ring. Keep swimming. I have done well, Ione. Be proud. Love always. by Josh Obusek |