I See You
I see you. I know you don’t see me anymore. You’re silver hair and frightened eyes tell me your still here. They tell me you don’t have long but it can’t come soon enough. There, I said it and I’m not ashamed. You’re chest gurgles as it constantly fills up with fluid. They keep sticking a tube down your throat to relieve the effusion — to help you breath. I wouldn’t let my dog suffer like this. Do you feel your pain? You don’t feel mine.
I need to tell you something… I know it might be too late but, you are the most steadfast person I have ever known: an absolute constant. I can feel your determination to stay here but it serves no one, especially not you. Can you hear me tell you it’s okay to go, that you did your very best, under some terrible circumstances.
You used to sing “Your Daddy’s Little Girl” to me and you were the one that taught me how to read. Ha, you taught me using the Kings James Bible for heaven’s sake it’s no wonder Shakespeare was never any trouble for me in school. You would let me read ‘thine’ and ‘thou’ and begat. I loved that. There was so many ‘begats’ in that one book. You would wake me up sometimes and surprise me an ice cream cone. Who does that? You raced with me and let me win every time. Its no wonder I grew up thinking I was the fastest runner, ever! And I was, my high school records prove that. You would argue with the Jehovah Witnesses that came to the door. No one could quote scripture like you. They had to eventually give up. You took me to the mountain. We walked for hours and you let me stand close to the edge to see the view. Then there was your love of boxing which I didn’t know about till I heard you talking to someone outside of our family. When did you even get to watch that: not under Mom’s gaze. How did I not know how passionate your were.
Do you see me? I still see you. Its okay to leave you know. You gave me everything I need. I have strong legs to stand on, know that its okay to break the rules every once in a while, and will always have a passion for reading and the written word. I’m learning how to hold fast while letting someone else win and to have my own independent interests. I will always keep the door open for others with a different point of view and I’m not afraid to reach high and stand on the edge if the view is worth it.
Do you see me? Do you see my swollen belly? My son is waiting to be born: a month from now. I will tell him about you: that I was created from the very best of you. When I crave ice cream, or need a hike in the mountains; when I’m read a book or am struggling to find the right words, you’ll be with me. As my feet hit the pavement because sometimes running is the only thing that helps, you’ll be there. So go and go with ease. You will never be forgotten. I will always see you.