On Leaving....

December 15, 2009

You left yesterday. The silence from you has started and I never realized how loud silence can be. It is in every corner of the house, in your room, and outside.

We said goodbye at a dinner that we all tried to keep upbeat. But every laugh seemed forced and every smile stiff.

And I watched you chew. I stared at every hair on your head, knowing it would be soon shaved down to your scalp. I wanted you to stuff yourself full of bread and vegetables and dessert, because when would you eat like this again? And I noticed the way you kept your eyes down, as if you were afraid to make eye contact because you knew there would be tears in mine. I promised myself I would not cry and I would hold firm to that promise until you were out of my sight.

When we walked outside it was raining and I was happy because it covered my face. When I hugged you I was truly shocked at just how much taller you are than me and when did that happen? I knew you were apprehensive because you do not like tears so I kept them in as best I could. I know I said something, but I do not remember what it was, or how I got any words past the lump in my throat that was threatening to choke off the very breath I tried to take in.

And I cried. I know I will many more times on this journey. You are the first to leave, and that alone warrants tears. But I will be okay, just as I know you will be.