An old man sits in a worn out chair by the garden.

Cane over knees, head bowed. Oblivious to my daily greetings.

Mysterious forces pull me close to place my hand on a hunched shoulder.

My name is Aubrey, he said to my hello. He was 100 years old.

A spark of friendship bursts into a roaring fire of warmth and companionship.

Joining my family for Christmas, tears in his eyes at the hint of going home alone.

My home became his home. My family became his family.

I craved his stories of long ago. His past raging back to life, igniting a sparkle in his eyes.

Vivid stories of a time long ago painting beautiful pictures in my soul, awakening a desire to have been a part of that era. I was an old soul even at 31.

An unforgettable year of love, laughter, friendship, ambulances, doctors and learning to be his nurse.

His fell into an eternal sleep a week before his 101st birthday.

Majestic horses pulling a buckboard wagon completed his last ride to his final resting place.

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