August morning

I still remember the tubes snaked into your arm. Purple bruises on thin, pale arms under the pale blue gown. You used to sport a permanent tan on your once, strong body. Then you became sick and you spent the last 7 months of your life imprisoned in a body that would not let you move or talk. It is getting closer to August the 4th, 4 days before my son's birthday. I really think you wanted to make it to his birthday, you hung on for as long as you could.

Then as I stepped out in the sunlight that morning, and pushed my son on his swing, you took your last breath.