How long had I known him?
Forty years or maybe more
I estimated.
Sitting opposite at lunch
his eyes stopped me:
I could not recall them
so bright, his skin so
clear,
no trace of angst,
no elements of previous
ambition,
conversation a little
slow,
his stare, though happy, fixed,
fine movements missing,
mini-twitches, small
adjustments:
were these the beginning
of Parkinson's Disease?
I was lost, though not
shocked
when two days later
I learned that he had
died.
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