with words to live large by


1 Comment


I entered the room

your still shrinking body was dwarfed by the bed

clinically white save but for your mauve shawl

which played with the silver of your hair

and the light of day streaming in from the window

You spied one eye open

and held your hand out for mine

Cold hands, warm hearts

We talked about you

your dreams and the visitors

from the past and the present

You knew and so did I that

this was our time, albeit limited

Life is an accumulation

of connected moments

I was grateful for the connection

felt blessed to bear witness

we sat holding hands

while the day faded

so did you





One thought on “Still

  1. I just experienced this with my mother – such a gift. Thank you for sharing this beautifully written, heartfelt post. Right to the end mom would singsong “Cold hands, warm heart, big feet and no sweetheart” and giggle…one of my favorite memories of her being silly with me.

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