A Final Wish
I waited by the window, day and night,
Hoping you'd come, hoping you'd fight.
The sickness weighed heavy, but more than the pain,
Was the silence, the absence-"calling your name.
I’d dream of your voice, soft and sweet,
Of you by my side, pulling up a seat.
But each day passed with no sound, no call,
And I wondered if you cared at all.
They told me the truth, but I didn’t believe-"
That you’d spent the money, that you chose to leave.
That while I was fighting, all pale and thin,
You found your solace in a bottle’s spin.
I ached for you, more than for breath,
More than the fear of impending death.
All I wanted was you by my side,
But your love, it seemed, had long since died.
I thought, perhaps, I wasn’t enough,
That loving me must have been too tough.
But I would have given my final day,
To see your face, to hear you say:
“I’m here, my son. I’ll stay this time.
I won’t let go. You’re still mine.”
But those words never came, that touch never felt,
And with each passing hour, I slowly knelt.
To the truth that you chose something else over me,
That the bottle, not love, held the key.
I fought alone, in a cold, sterile bed,
Longing for you, but the whiskey instead.
Now I’m gone, but I still hope you see,
The cost of your choices-"what they did to me.
For all I wanted was you, Mom, to care,
But you left me alone in my final despair.
And though I forgive, my heart still aches,
For the moments lost, the love it takes,
To make a child feel wanted, feel whole,
Even as cancer claimed my soul.
So here I rest, in the quiet beyond,
No longer waiting, no longer fond.
But I hope, one day, you’ll understand,
That love was always within your hand.