Mixed Emotions
He was a leviathan. The six-foot-plus, 93-year-old giant sat with his back braced against my chest. His calloused left hand locked flat against the stark slate-coloured pavement on Castlereagh Street. I saw him topple over. He went down like a large Beech tree, the likes of which I had walked amongst a week ago when tramping along New Zealand’s Kepler Track. They too looked to be very old. Remarkably his head stayed clear of the ground and there were no cracks or scrapes as the tall-timbered fellow fell to earth. No one moved a muscle, for he was standing behind the jeering crowds that lined the streets on Anzac Day. But you could have felt the earth move. What do I do, turn a blind eye and walk on? I went to him. Whilst cradling his head I whispered words of reassurance and encouraged him to lie still. A moment or two passed before I sat him up and propped his heavy mass against me. He did not moan or whimper but bowed his head and cried dry tears for 30-seconds or so...