Vader died today, but now he runs in fields of grass and swims in pools of water like he did when he was small. He cavorts with playmates like a wild puppy, stopping to catch his breath by a leafy green tree where his companion, a yellow stuffed dog sits. And, though he likes to lick her and toss her around he has no memory of the hours he spent in his old age propped up against her unable to move. Instead, he knows what it feels like to have four legs beneath him and to dash among the dandelions. He does pause briefly, however, when I call his name. He remembers nothing now of pain or sadness, but my voice he knows. He always comes when I call and though I seem distant now, he stops and listens then resumes running -- young again.
