things we never say out loud

I watch you with the anxiety of a new mother

as you amble down the street in preparation for a run,

your gait uneven and slow,

but your will unwavering

still the You of old

as you fight -

to maintain

a modicum

of normalcy,

to keep at bay

depression

as you lose

You,

as you do

the only thing

with some hope

of slowing

the progression

of your steady

decline;

I watch you, choking on tears,

as I smile encouragement

wave and blow kisses of support;

I watch you and see You

in a body that is failing you

far too soon,

hoping the mind -

already showing

signs of decay -

stays with me

just a little longer;

I watch you, I love you,

and I am missing You

even though

you are

with me

still.

*****

You stand on the porch like an anxious new mother

waving and blowing kisses

and I bask in your love

at the same time

that I hate it.

I know

that you have always

done this

even before PD

but it feels different now -

after PD.

I feel like a child

that needs worrying

and encouragement

even though

I am just going for a run.

A run that I can’t do now

without dragging

and panting

and aching.

A run that once

took me less than 20 minutes

and now takes

almost an hour.

You watch me

and I feel my loss

more acutely;

I miss who I was

who I will never be

again,

as you stand there

still you, always you,

still loving me

as I am.