When
my brother was in hospice I saw him and his partner of 30 years holding hands. It
was the first time I had known of them to allow anyone to see their physical
tenderness for each other. I also
remember that they slid their hands apart when a nurse walked into the
room. Now I know that all the nicknames
they had for each other, all of them quite funny, were a way of touching and
sometimes the only intimacy they felt safe to use in public. We don’t have to whisper the names of those
we love. But if we do, it should be
because it is a way to reach through time and distance and to touch them with
the gentleness of our voices.
the
wild blue poem series, from the first section on grief. the entire book is
available through Amazon Kindle at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E2UU19O
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