By Small and Small: Midnight to Four A.M.
By Jack Gilbert
For eleven years I have regretted it,
regretted that I did not do what
I wanted to do as I sat there those
four hours watching her die. I wanted
to crawl in among the machinery
and hold her in my arms, knowing
the elementary, leftover bit of her
mind would dimly recognize it was me
carrying her to where she was going.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
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10 comments:
I don't know who you wrote this about, but it's beautiful. It shows you loved her, and that is a precious gift.
Was she a mother or grand mother? Was it dementia? Or somthing else? Its a such a terrible sadness when we are made to be physicaly helpless. My sympathies.
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