Goodbye!

All my thoughts and feelings were focused on her;

she struggled stoically,

fighting against the obvious rising tide,

not wanting to lose control,

for me, for her, for the others on the platform.

I'll never know, I'll never see her again.

Slowly we moved away, she never moved.

Hanging out from the carriage window she watched me,

and I her, until she diminished into a mere speck.

Suddenly I became aware of the clunking and grinding,

squeaking and jolting, of all the excited banter rolling through the carriages;

we were as one, one destination, one goal, one war.

I never could decide if my letters home gave comfort

or simply served to remind her that I was gone,

ever prodding, disturbing, revolving her thoughts.

I hesitated at every posting, felt guilt; damned if I did

similarly if I didn't.

With my last I shall now longer fight with that dilemma.

Even so I stare at it limply perched beside my bed,

patiently waiting, beckoning me to tear it up, as each of it's siblings have before.

 

 

 

What has been of great comfort to me are memories of her,

and those of me, of the joyous childhood, the everyday,

the most basic of pleasures, the most menial of activities;

so much pain has been eased with those.

No longer thoughts of the future, it's expectations,

demands, hopes, the drive for achievement,

striving for attainment, the realisation of potential,

the reward of investment.

No, life is truly about the smallest of things

the tiniest of moments, the barest of experiences.

It's about relationships and not acquisition,

about development not acclaim,

kinship not office.

A legacy of warm memories,

not a written list of credits.

Mother is frail,

I always felt is was me who would never see her again,

not her I.

The nurses have been so good to me.

I no longer have any notion of why it is I'm writing.

I'm tired now, so tired.

Tired and cold.

Goodbye.