Hands

I think I’ve wrote about this before, so skip it if you wish.

I remember, as I’m sure you do too,
my hands are small compared to his.

I can never be as big as he is,
there just is no way, it can’t be.

I wanted to be as big as him,
I wanted to be bigger than his legend…in my mind.

He was a mammoth, a signal.
I wanted to be at least something he’d recognize.

Then there was a day he asked me to sit with him,
and I did.

He said there was no one else that could be there that day,
but me.

He told me without words what I needed him to say,
and I sat there, listening.

I watched him as he turned white, almost blue,
and I sat there listening.

For hours I heard him breathe and breathe and struggle for each breath,
and I hoped it would stop.

Until it did.

I know, at the end, he hoped he would be as big as me,
and he was bigger than I ever could hope to be.

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