I swear
sometimes I hear him
out in the hall,
that familiar shuffle,
moving slowly,
but with
determination.

I remember
back in the day,
my brother and I
******* him off.
He'd scream & yell
so loudly,
like he was going
to blow a vessel.
Mom would give us that look
& we'd hold in our snickers.

And when
he got dementia,
things changed a lot,
he mellowed quite a bit,
didn't ever seem the same again,
even forgot our names.

******,
now that he's gone,
I'd give everything I own
just to see him
angry or mad
or mellow &
he could call me
anything he wanted, too.