Caroline Momentum

Running up the cracked concrete walkway near the old house, your hand always floated between my shoulder blades, encouraged me to keep pace with you, but you never pushed, you always let me stop myself, you wanted it to be my determination to catch up with you, She was there, reminding me that it was okay to fail, you would not be disappointed unless I forgot to get up and try to catch up again.

I imagine your handprint still there, up the current metaphorical hill, on the day I felt strong and useful I fall apart in tears as completely as I have not allowed myself since the night I left you in the hospital.

Processing Your Loss Does not End Once the agenda finds its natural groove again, it does not stop when I'm really happy, it's just there, a mass of pain that I unload one cry at a time.

In your absence I wonder where the hand pushes me forward, how forward I want to take myself and how many times I want to stop and let her free me from the burden of impressing you.

And maybe only forward is enough