disremembering the dead.  Old  version

"Dead of a massive heart attack."    
Never merely heart attack.      
I imagined the doctors saying      
those very words to my mother.      
     
Massive.      
Fifty.      
Father.      
Dead.    
     
I have warm memories of him.      
Mother swears I don't.      
"You're confusing photos with reality."      
     
Four.      
Fondness.      
Mirth.      
Memories.      
     
Lately, my memories do not answer      
when called. They are tardy things.      
     
Inconvenient.      
Incomplete.      
Transient.      
Torn.      
     
Yet, why does mother insist so?      
She has her own memories of her father.      
     
Stoic.      
Steelworker.      
Widower.      
Weary.      
     
I've no heart for the clash of memories.      
So grandfather is no longer a fit topic.      
But, sad the man should die twice.      
     
Sinner.   
Saint.  
Fading.      
Forgotten.