his hand

I held his hand

once so powerful,

now a weak and frail hand.

all the hard times

honed his core of strength,

now his strength is a burden

keeping him from joining mom.

go see mom he kept saying,

i could not remind him,

she is gone,

was it torture?

no just the painful to watch

dwindles of an old man.

how can I,

I thought,

make all this better?

for him, me, everyone?

I am at a loss, too close to him,

all i could do was hold his hand,

breathe in his pain and suffering,

and exhale slowly

visualizing his serenity and peace at last.