What Would He Say? A Caregiver’s Poem…

This one cracked me open…

What Would He Say?

Someone asked me gently,
like he didn’t know
he was striking a match
in a kerosene room.

“If he could talk to you,
what would he say first?”

And just like that,
the floor gave out
beneath the repairs
I pretend are permanent.

Twenty minutes of tears
I didn’t schedule.
The kind that come
from somewhere 
older than language.

I’ve heard him,
just not in words.

In the way his hands find mine
without looking.

In the way his eyes close
and he leans on my shoulder,
drowning out the sound.

In the quiet agreement
we make every morning
to keep going.

Still, I tried 
to answer.

Held the moment
like I hold his frame,
like if I rushed it
I’d lose him inside it.

And through the ache,
through the years 
of translating love 
without syllables,
something clear 
came through:

“Thank you, mom and dad…
I love you.”

Simple.

Whole.

Enough to undo me.

He’s been saying it all along:
in every breath 
we’ve borrowed together,
in every victory
the wind fails to carry.

And maybe the real question
isn’t what he would say
but whether I’ve been listening
close enough
to hear him
anyway.

~

Behind the poem: While recording a podcast with my friend Zev last week, he asked me, “If Bray Bray could talk to you, what is the first thing you think he’d say?”

Out of nowhere, I immediately broke down and cried for 20 minutes. I then mustered up enough composure to answer, “Thank you mom and dad… I love you.”

After our podcast was finished, I felt a familiar wave wash over me. The result of it was the poem you just read, which simply came pouring out of me.

I’d like to thank Zev for asking me such a profound question. I certainly needed the spontaneous cry and I never would have written What Would He Say? without him. Thank you Zev!

That’s all from me — Chris B.