I wasn’t there.

I didn’t hold his hand as he left us

Or watch him take his last breath.

I wasn’t there for him as he walked out of our world

And danced into the next.

The only thing I was there for was his decline:

I watched as he

Couldn’t sit up

Couldn’t swallow

Couldn’t really do anything,

Except lay there.

I’ve heard it’s a beautiful transition:

When the light leaves their eyes

And they are welcomed by the glow of his hands.

But I wouldn’t know.