Like those late night talks where neither of us would go to the bathroom,
for fear that the other would say good night.
For 21 years, close to 22, I could count on you,
and you on me.
For what?
Neither of us really needed anything, and at the same time we needed everything.
Now what you need is somewhere else. And the same goes for me.
I wish you could have slipped away without my having had to lean on you so heavily at the end.
I always thought it was my job to have you lean on me.
I just thank sweet Jesus (as they say) that you were here when I needed you.
It’s just another sign that the time is right - right now.
When you were a little girl, you used to ask me such silly questions.
Do you need anyone else?
How did you know what job you wanted to do?
How are you able to keep the car between the lines?
Those and a million more.
Except they weren’t really silly. And they weren’t really about me.
They were you worrying about you.
One by one you figured out answers.
Sometimes I was able to help. Usually I couldn’t, really.
And some of the answers you may never master.
Just like the rest of us.
But I don’t worry too much.
Parents watch their kids leave with a mixture of pride and concern.
That’s how it was with your brother. And now with you.
But I’m not really very concerned about you.
I know you know enough.
And I know that you’re a good person.
Someday, if you want to, you’ll make a great mom.
Someday, if you want to, you’ll make a great wife.
You’ve already been a great daughter.
I wish I could always be there to keep the hurt away from you.
But I’m not allowed to make that my job any more.
And after you were no longer a little girl,
I wasn’t very successful anyway.
Things get too complicated.
But even though we couldn’t protect each other,
We both were able to bandage each other’s wounds.
I already know,
that you already know,
that you’re mine, and I’m yours.