Go around my heart.

Today my Papaw had a 'mild' heart attack; he is 92. Wow, that was hard to write.

The fact is, I can not think about anything happening to my Papaw. You see, he is my Heart. I grew up no more than 200 yards from his house and as close as that may seem, I already lost my Mamaw and just can't imagine this happening. Sure, he's 92, but he's my Papaw... This is just too much. Too much.

I feel like I can't shoulder the weight; like it's just one thing after another and I am ridiculously small.

My brother said he believes Papaw will be fine for this go-around. I say, "When you are 92 years old, how long is a 'go-around'?." Call me Defeatist, if you will. I am a realist. Papaw signed up for three tours in WWII. He had a quadruple bi-pass in the early Eighties. In 2004, at 89, both of his knees were replaced at the same time. He has endured, accomplished and stood for more than any person I know. Papaw is my Heart; the man to whom I have and will compare all others.

And I am too far away for consolation. I have begun writing a tribute, homage, eulogy, whatever... and I just can't get it right.

Perhaps when I sober up... I don't know. Perhaps when he moves on. There is a point when you think "Maybe it is just better this way..." And then the guilt settles in.

He is lucid. He is strong. He has had an amazing life with the expansion going as far as great-grand children.

I don't know... I am a disaster right now. I'm dizzy with solitude and all I want is Peace. Or rather, sometimes I want a hug. Who knows?