Sometimes, the only way to deal is to let it out in written words. And to remember the good places you've been.
Barefoot Under the Cherry Tree
I was five states away from you in more ways than one,
Barefoot and under a cherry tree,
Unaware I was already
Teaching myself to compassionately disengage,
When the realization came to me
That your chronic progressive disease
Had progressed enough to leave no doubt
That I had taken on your weakness when I took you;
That I am in it and it is a part of me and who I am, it is mine
Till death do us part,
And I'm not sure I believe that even then
I will ever exist in any form again without
This heavy knowledge I learned from you;
That it lives in the present with us,
Evolving like a third person;
That when you asked me, "Are you sure?"
That I hesitated only a moment and
That hindsight will always make me wish
I had said, "I cannot answer that because I don't know;"
That I will always resent myself for my naiveté
And you for the cost of staying;
That I imagine your disease outlining you in a sickly yellow,
Always between us, wrapping you like a sickly bright yellow gift,
Protecting your most broken part.