I thought about the last time I hugged you today, just now.
You held joy. Your eyes sparkled like I hadn’t seen in some time,
even though we’d just discussed that you weren’t feeling well,
and I held your feet because I knew; I could feel it too.
Your hair looked really cute that day. Maybe I told you.
And the last time you walked down our hall,
you looked back at me, almost impishly,
told me loudly how you loved me.
Then, “Mimi loves Jonah!” like always, smiling.
Nothing, and everything.
I secretly wished you were fine,
and even waited some time to call again
so as not to seem overly concerned.
You were gone within three weeks.
Of course I wish I’d done more, or said more, but now
I get to write it and know you know the core of this,
even though I couldn’t express it then.
It’s a list of what I wish I’d done.
I wish I had invited you over a LOT more.
And cooked with you, and sat on my couch with you
and listened to the stillness.
I wish I’d asked you to come to the tiny little school things.
I wish I had come to visit and
I wish I’d been more present every time you’d asked me
to look through some box of my old stuff that you so
I wish I would’ve been more patient.
I wish I hadn’t been so sensitive.
I wish I’d taken things less personally.
I wish I could tell you, clearly and softly,
I know you just LOVE ME.
And that’s why you were hard on me.
And that’s why you always called me.
And that’s why you just wanted to be near me.
And that’s why you even brought slippers to my house
to wear when you’d visit again – those striped little scandals.
I made so much fun then. But they’re mine now, and I’ve
decided to start wearing them.