Bitter Old Man

Bitter Old Man

The old man is lying on a dirty old metal bed, the sheets unchanged for weeks.

He lies on his side with his knees drawn up, like he did 80 years ago.

The gray on his head is matched by the gray of his life.

He has been alone now for years, abandoned by all, left to his bed and bitterness.

Life is hard and that is exactly what he taught everybody around him.

His wife, stoop shouldered by the burdens and his words, crumbled under his care.

For years she tried to please him, her efforts only gained more scorn and weight on her shoulders.

Children now gone, haven't seen the old man in years.

His son, his namesake, pledged to never see or speak to him, never to enter the house until it was funeral time.

A daughter, broken by suspicion and cursing, still lives broken, trying to make her daddy happy, five or six times since she saw him last.

He knew they needed to know that the world is cruel and the best a man could do was to work all of his waking hours.

Home, he expected all to understand his life and be content that he put food on the table and a roof over their heads.

His words, never from a warm spirit, only the ones that needed to be said, the food is cold, the chores are undone, the wood needs carrin-in.

He expects respect and obedience, cares not to know what troubles live in his home.

All homes have trouble, life is hard and you just put up with it.

On his bed his hands are shriveling and gnarled, evidence of years of toil, toil he thought so unappreciated, work ignored, sweat unnoticed.

Unaware of the words of a mother to her children, words of work by their father, toil to provide food and shelter, long hard days spent on the end of a shovel.

He looks down at his hands and realizes his heart and soul is just as bent and gnarled as they are.

He mumbles in a voice no one can understand, words that seem garbled, "God what did I do wrong?" Life is hard and they had to learn, the world is cruel and unloving. I did what was best.

A message begins to move deep in his soul, he feels uncomfortable, struggles on the hard rusted metal frame bed.

His stomach churns and his legs move to curb the pain.

A voice very clearly and quietly speaks it's message of unwelcome truth.

Today you are alone, alone on your bed, waiting to die, where are your children?

You are choking on the weeds you planted most of your life.

It is now time for you to realize what you have done, and live and die with it.

Even though you lie here abandoned and scared, yes I will be with you.

I will try and help them understand your life and keep them from your pain.
If only you would have tried to reach me, tried a small amount of kindness.
Soon all your pain and ugliness will end.