Here's the man with teeth like God's shoeshine, He sparkles, shimmers, shines. skin we and wrinkled as a beach towel left forgotten in your closet for 19 years. Here's the man who has had gravity as an obstacle his entire life, first as a carpenter, then as a hiker, and now, now as frail cancer patient, without the patience to live or to die, only to see his family, Me. Gravity keeps him under the prescribed sheets, lets his IV drip lets the blood flow to his legs he's too weak to use. I don't know what kept me from driving an hour and a half to visit him when he was well. but now it's gravity that pulls my eyes to the floor when chokes on applesauce because his jaw has to fight the same force to eat, and even that is too weak to compete. Everyday he asks my grandmother if he can go hiking. I know if he could walk, he would sneak out of the hospital, and into the mountains. He would die in two days without his medication, but he would die doing what he loved, going down like the band on the Titanic, playing until icy water silenced their horns. He loved being surrounded by auburn leaves that fell because they are beautiful, not because of gravity.