Laying here looking at the ceiling, someone pulls a sheet across my face. What are they doing? It’s so dark in this place.
I’ve never been here before. Things seem so different now. Why are you crying? How’d I get here? How?
Everyone comes and looks at me. You even touched my hand. This is so very strange I even think I hear a band.
How come my eyes are closed and yet I still can see? Look, I am over here. That isn’t me.
Don’t cry. I am right here. Taking every step with you. Look, I am holding your hand, please don’t feel so blue.
I see my hands folded in prayer. Now I see why you are crying. If I could wipe those tears, hold still, I am still trying.
What are you doing? You are walking away. I am not gone. I am beside you all the way.
Don’t think of me as gone. Think of me showing you the way. I will hold on to your forever and you will join me here someday.
But until then, that chill you get when there is no explanation for…will be my hand touching you. I am there for you and so much more.
This touches home more then words could ever speak. My hands always remain open and never forget her words
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