We go through our days, getting things done that need to get done, hardly thinking that it might be the last time we do them. Truth is we're not prepared - or ready - to admit that possibility. Six years ago today, I was neither prepared nor ready for what this day would hold. We bought a new bed
Because ours was too high For your cancer body to negotiate. We put it together, Your daughter and I. Your cancer body slid in with ease. Little did I know That that would be it – The first and last time we’d share that bed. You had a rough night; I sat up, awake Listening to you breathe Monday morning brought with it Paramedics and fear, Wrapped in our sheets, they whisked you away Little did I know That that would be it – The last time you’d see our home, our life By mid-week they learned Your tumor was bleeding Nothing they could do would stop it. You’d been fighting so hard Perhaps for my sake “I’m so tired,” you said, the battle so long. By week’s end, more asleep than awake You told me I’m beautiful. Little did I know That that would be it – The last time I’d hear such love spoken over me Later that night, Body wrecked by cancer, The strongest man I know set down his armor Little did I know That that would be it – The last time I’d look into eyes that perfectly mirrored my own Little did I know.
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