My Alzheimer's-ridden father just dropped a bomb on me:
At 11:45pm this evening,
having reached my waking limit
(having been up since 4am cleaning,
and fixing this and that around the house),
I said, "G'night, Dad. I love you,"
and reached to kiss him on the cheek,
when he faced me with a Chesire Cat grin,
"I don't do that. It isn't manly."
I stood, stupefied,
wondering whether that was the Alzheimer's talking,
or if, like drunks spouting their true feelings,
he never liked his son kissing him,
and merely tolerated it for my sake.
And in that split second,
my heart sank
as a knife twisted it.
I love you.