Writing, prose & poetry
I usually don’tI don’t run my mouth like this ordinarilytalking to people.I guess, but what I’m trying to do is just;let people know that I, I care about em.And uh, even though I look like I’m going to do more than just one little,one little thing…I still wanna be able to help somebody.
— CRG (Clarence Roland Giles) My dad.
It was Sunday, June 17th, 2018. Father's Day.
To someone looking in from the outside, it may have appeared that my dad was still able to carry on a conversation. He had a contagious smile and a charismatic aura that would draw you into what he was saying.
Always careful to let you know that he was meeting you where you were. Seeing you, when listening to you. His eye contact and reassuring body language put me at ease when I needed to ask for his advice, which I often would.
He was a professional, after all. A man of letters. As he would tell it;
“A creative writer of prose and poetry”
Exactly one year had passed since the first time he forgot who I was.
That event would change my life and start me on a path of discovery reconciling emotion, and grief and ultimately healing and fulfillment through my writing, prose, and poetry.
It had been changing his life longer than he let anyone know. Diagnosed in 2011 at the age of 65, he thought he had time to prepare. To learn. To fight.
Even though he’s still here, I miss him.
Honoring his memories that he no longer can, is a way for me to continue connecting with him.
To properly tell his story, I’ve got to go back.
As far back as I can.
There’s a part of the story that I want to be told from his perspective…
Every word he didn't publish helps to tell his (story)
I usually dont.I don’t run my mouth like this ordinarilytalking to people.I guess, but what I’m trying to do is just;let people know that I, I care about em.And uh, even though I look like I’m going to do more than just one little,one little thing…I still wanna be able to help somebody.
Please allow me to, Clareifi 🎙️