Every Precious and Fragile Thing

by Barbara Davis

Because this is part of loving. Perhaps the truest part. To hold the hand of one’s beloved, not only in their best moments but also in their worst, to take their pain, as far as it’s possible, as your own.

I’ve never truly felt separate from you. Because I knew you were somewhere in the world, walking the earth and breathing in and out, perhaps thinking of me too. It’s inconceivable that a day might come when that’s no longer true. But it will come and I don’t know how I’ll ever bear it. I will, though, somehow.