1984

My father was a bad man.
No, that’s wrong.
He was a difficult man,
not particularly considerate,
caring
or interested in other people.
At least
until the operation.

He got a new valve in his heart.
It was a pig valve.
Not the best option
for a Jew.
It didn’t last long.
Leaking,
the pig valve was replaced
with a machine part.

That lasted forever
– or as forever as necessary.
With it,
my father seem to have a change of heart.
He became kinder,
nicer,
a better person.
I wonder,
if the pig valve had lasted,
would he have proven even more overpowering,
becoming yet another little Napoleon?

It doesn’t matter.
My father’s story had a different ending
which did not resolve particularly happy
or well.
At least, though,
he ended up
far more human
than he had previously been.

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