When I chance upon him, unobserved by him, I see an old man, either unaware of or denying his frailty. But when I raise my eyes to meet his, its as if my eyes find their home - a place where they want to be as long as, held, and oblivious to everything and everyone else - till the warning voice within me reminds me of the inappropriateness of it. 

Fighting this is painstaking but also feels futile and potentially wasteful given the preciousness of every moment of life and the fragility of it.

The last time he was here, and just before leaving, he said 'thank you, this was very nice' to us but really to me, not looking at me but down and within himself, which is unusual for him (is more my style). I believe those were not easy words, but that he was following my example, of trying to put into words difficult to express things, our deep regrets and appreciations in words of apology or gratitude.