Seven Is Prime

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Four months ago today,

July 7,

he died after years of struggle with cancer.

He said I never knew him in his prime.

But even with his illness

he had more energy

more brilliance

more love to give

more humor than

most of us on our best days.

He loved watching me

do things he no longer could do:

swim laps at my top speed

run down the beach on two strong legs

nibble chocolate

sing with full lung power.

Prized photos of him at an earlier age

showed him in physical prime:

an elastic and beautifully powerful

body stretching in yoga poses

and martial art forms.

As I look back on all that he

lost and endured over years

and yet

how much he loved all his family

loved his patients and colleagues

loved life

and loved me

I am amazed at the indivisible strength

of mind and spirit

that lived in him.

And I know that because every month

holds within it

a seven, that

the days of remembering his prime

will be

infinite.

 

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Seven Is Prime

  1. Laurie, Your Dad and I really liked this poem. You have grown so much this year as a poet. This made me cry again. Mom

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