Weary

How often I look back now,as he did.
He looked back like there was some awful terror about to swallow him.
Many times he would sit,in his small room wondering what happened to his life.
She had left him years before of course and she was no longer heard from.Not even a card.Not a call or a letter.She was just gone.
His family had no wish to speak to him and he didn't much care.
Lost in his books now,he did not relate to this day.
Speaking just a few words,just the basic communication he needed to live,he only ordered food.
He would drink whiskey when he could sneak out of the home but they watched him close now.
Some bracelet they said was for his own security.He broke it a few times but they got pretty mad.
He had fought for his country.
He had been wounded.
It still hurt like hell but he paid it no mind anymore.He thought he got what he deserved.
Times were gone.His time was gone and he lived in a world now long forgotten.
Veterans home are no place for people to spend your final days he thought.
He wanted to go to some lake somewhere where he had vague memories of a life he thought he had once.
Dying slowly.He did not care.
Day after day,the same.
No smiles,no joy,fading memories.
I met him before he died.
His family wanted his body cremated.It's cheaper.
I hope somehow,someway he had found his Peace.
It makes me weary.