Grief 1 of 2

The book you can't put down, the painting you can't your eyes off. Lost in complete captivation I watch her. I'm the voice she can't hear. My touch passed off as the wind. My guidance, to her a conscience.



Private moments, stages of vulnerability, triumphs, failures, all invaded by me. Secrets, dreams, and fears. The way she unlocks herself when nobody is near. I know her better than her own shadow.



All alone, the only time she lets go. Her eyes unveil tears. She looks in the mirror to see her hidden pain. She calls my name begging me to rescue her with a father's embrace. She is pleading against every odd for one last moment in time, but she knows she will be denied.



She screams out for me. She is unaware that I am there. Her voice runs weak. The last broken word I always hear is "please". Her arms wrap around her small body. Rocking back and forth she attempts to calm herself.



I am forced to watch helplessly, the ultimate punishment. She relies on independence, her own sense of stability. Pushing herself to her limits in search of me. Naive that I am the air she breathes her dreams while she sleeps.



So, I will continue to watch.



February 18, 2000