I remember your final words to me.
I could hear the pain in your voice,
as you desperately tried to say
“Hello Lovely.”

I remember my final words to you.
A choked “ It’s Okay.”
I could feel your anxiety,
it was contagious.

I remember pacing in the hall,
And When my Step Dad
walked in and said,
“it’s time.”

I remember walking into
your hospital room,
for the very last time.
The anxiety was gone,
It felt empty,
yet the room was full.

I remember all of us walking out
with tears,
and silent sadness.

I remember the car ride home,
no one spoke.
And when we arrived,
only eerie silence awaited us.

I remember the week after,
I sat outside every night.
Letting the cold grasp
of January take over.

My final words to you,
playing in my head,
like a broken record.
“It’s ok.”