All Over Again

Sitting there by his bed, I watched him sleep.
It was not an easy sight to bear as I held his hands and felt the coldness,
Or rather, the absence of warmth.
I thought to myself how great it would be if I could really channel heat through my hands to his.
Of course, there is no such thing.
The closest I've heard is reiki and related forms of energy channeling.
And even then there are detractors very much against the practitioners of such disciplines, though I have personally experienced the 'art' performed on myself.

Whatever the case was, I placed my hands over his and commented how cold they felt.
He merely nodded, eyes closed, somewhat unresponsive.
I no longer knows what he wants; communication is almost lost.
He places both palms together, in the fashion of praying, and moves them back and forth -
as though doing so would invoke the spirits to have mercy on him.
I just sat there, content to stare into his old face, carved full of lines by time and experience.

(The feeling of indifference is probably a defense mechanism to protect myself from the pain that is eminent. And no, I still haven't told him I love him. I need to figure out the words first. Yeah yeah, excuses excuses...)

I remember staring at the family portrait hanging in the living room.
I was only 7 or 8 then, I don't remember.
She was still around then. I remember her loud voice filling the home and making it whole all the time.
When she left, she took half the home with her, and we moved into a new place, with only half of what we once had.
Now, he may leave soon, taking the other half with him. The silence that was his will soon be gone, just the noise was hers and had left with her passing.

Then all that will be left is an empty home...and newfound independence and sadness all mixed together in one confusing package.

I still want to be able to channel warmth through my hands, to replace that absence of heat in the cold hands of others.

I miss you...every single day... ^_^