So I Just Held Her Hand*

So I Just Held Her Hand

There was nothing I could do
so I just held her hand.
I had been sitting there
for more hours than I could
remember.
She slept.
I guess that is the right word.
Her eyes were closed
and she breathed quietly.
There was nothing I could do
so I just held her hand.

Time seemed on hold
and had no real meaning
as my thoughts went back
to years ago and right back
again.
I thought of how she was there
for so many of my firsts:
first steps, first day of school:
the birth of my first child
(her first grandchild),
of my first love
and first heartbreak.
Then all that turned to thoughts
of how now there were so many
lasts.
The last time I saw her smile;
the last time I told her
I loved her;
the last time I watched
her through her screen door
as I backed from her drive;
and realized that list of lasts
now included everything.
But there was nothing I could do
so I just held her hand.

I thought of Christmas
and birthdays.
I thought of late-night phone calls
from wherever I might have been.
The room grew dark
as the hours passed.
Maybe I got up at some point
but I really don’t remember that.
The night was never-ending.
No, that is a lie.
I didn’t want it to ever end.
I didn’t want her breaths
to keep growing so shallow
and so far in-between.
But there was nothing I could do
so I just held her hand.

I could see a faint glimmer of light
through the curtains
and for some reason
thought of her favorite song,
“Danny Boy”.
Without conscious thought
I sang it softly.
Then all was silent.
The words were gone
as was even her faint breath.
But there was nothing I could do
so I just held her hand.

Michael Mathews
12-27-19
7:00 PM Friday
By the lake near the place I hear rumors of home