You arrived in a blur, but I remember so clear,
The events of that day, won’t forget all my years.
Emergency treatment, you stopped breathing en-route,
World stopped, there was silence, like someone pressed mute.
When surgery was over, you were taken away,
Hooked up to machines – and that’s where you stayed.
For ten days I sat there, right next to your bed,
Then came that day, and it filled me with dread.
Experts confirmed, that there wasn’t a chance,
That you could survive – no hope, no last dance.
Off went the machines, that had kept you alive,
Then you passed, and there with you, a piece of me died.
Couldn’t go the funeral, sat parked up outside,
Last memory I wanted, was from back when you died.
As that’s when I held you, for the first and last time,
So now that’s what I remember, when I close my eyes.
Spent all those first years, being strong for the rest,
But cried on my own, it was my greatest test.
Grieved two years later, no one understood why,
But my grief had been hidden, locked away deep inside.
Every year on your Birthday, I take time to reflect,
I close my eyes tight, and I try to connect.
To tell you I love you, and that I’d like to see,
Your face, and I wonder, just Who You Would Be?