I think of you
I think of you many times a day, with a smile or a shudder and closing of my throat and water teetering on an eyelid and I always try end with a smile but not always successfully. A flicker of the happiest and saddest images of my life and yours.
Memories of you gurgle, ear splitting shieks of excitement, wild hand gestures, accomplishments, fascinations, interests, lack of interests, Yeas, decisive Nays, wood floors and animal mural hospital corridors. All that blood flowing from your body. Wonderful weeks at home. Last laboured breaths.
Did we have the right to intervene in your natural order? were the interventions we subjected you to for you or us? did we challenge the teams to help you well enough? Your two precious years were such a special wonder to us, I hope so hard that you feel the same. You know my regrets. I can add the regret of not knowing you more. do you know how you are treasured? Was it enough for you? Did you know you were dying?
This stream flows each day, often set off by seeing a child about your age. This time a boy in a stroller, lollygagged at clowds, arched out of seat, steered by older parents past a Chinese fruit market with new bounce in their step.