What I Remember

 Buying a clock with huge digital numbers.

Trying to get into my car, trying and trying, and trying

Laughing and laughing and laughing

The frustration melting away.

Conversations that went in circles, well worn until the dirt was to our waists and I fought the urge to say, “we went over this, you know.”

I remember correcting every time seizures became Caesars and the joy –

The joy that was hidden in the fear and pain.

There were ice cream cones, Indian food, and too many cookies.

Phone calls that were missed, nights of waiting for a call that thankfully never came until one morning it did.

I remember the pain.

I remember the fear in both of our eyes – the blue eyes we share.

I remember the invisible that I saw with you

And the visible that you were able to forget.

I remember so much more and not enough.

I remembered and carried it with me as your memories –

As you faded away.

And I remember saying goodbye,

When you were still here with me.

I remember saying goodbye, knowing I would see you the next day.

You would say hello,

Not remembering we had only just parted.

And I would say goodbye,

Because I remember.