Time passes

Nearly six months have passed
since yesterday
when I walked into your room
for the very last time
carrying yet more flowers
some of our favourite music
and a heavy photo album
loaded down in every way
for our stroll along memory lane
wondering as I did
how to build an effective dam
against the pressing torrent
of tears threatening
to engulf me at any moment

Even now I remember the dread
other mixed emotions
how to live up to this honour
of being here to see you through
from this side
to whatever lies beyond
not knowing though
that this would be that hallowed day
hoping as ever to push back time
stretch the moments
and yet with your next breath
wanting to run as far away
as it was possible to get
afraid as ever

Rooted instead to the spot
holding tight somewhere inside
even as I gently held your hand
too frail, not really yours at all
listening to the rasp of your breaths
spaced impossibly far apart
wondering how to tell
when exactly it would be that you left
and thinking where are the final words
the chance to say ...
well so many things
too many for such a dry mouth
as my hammering heart raced
even whilst yours slowed to a still

Slowly I became aware of that stillness
from which there would be
no re-awakening
no more feeble jokes
as we stumbled through another rosary
why is it that when your heart is full
your mouth ceases in it's ability
to form even simple words
perhaps because they are as dust
whirling like so many motes
in the light that fell upon your face
I never sat so still
as I did in those moments
hoping for one more flicker of you

See, I remember just as if these months
were really only seconds
I can still feel the crushing weight
somewhere below my stomach
and how wobbly my legs were
as I went to find someone to come
to make sure of what I already knew
and not wanting to walk back
into this room ever again
even as I desperately wanted to
to see you, no ... to see you
not this remnant left over
I recall thinking you looked better
now that it was all over

What I don't remember is leaving
or any of the drive home
how strange it was to feel so numb
and yet still able to move
I can still hear the whooshing sound
and the indescribable cry
when your mum heard my voice
knowing that I was
keeping my last promise to you
that even in those moments
we were letting go
and starting the whole process
of somehow learning to live
without you

However it feels in this moment now
it is not the same as then
each day has unfolded in it's time
bringing with it a lessening
in such imperceptible increments
that it's almost impossible to tell
except in small ways
I never knew how much I'd love
your amazing mother
or how much we'd laugh and cry
as we sorted through your stuff
finding small treasures
to parcel out to loved ones
how we would ourselves become friends

How strange it is now when we chat
that I see your smile on her face
that funny way you'd flutter your hands
as if to wave away my idiocy
and just when proved right
you'd twist it so it wasn't so
so this is where that sharpness comes from
I see the history of you in her every line
and in the gentleness of her chiding
that I should eat better, get more sleep
I know how she drove you up the wall
with her unceasing care
bequeathed now to us left to bear
even as time passes.