Struck

A strange moon shines over the mountains, over snow-capped peaks and spring grass below. There was such a wind in the valley tonight, it looked like a desert sand storm and cast an eerie glow over the freeway as we raced down the left lane.

I saw your babies today. Your beautiful, happy babies. I know you wanted to be there to introduce me to them, but I was happy just to hold them. The little one looks so much like your sister. The big one smiled in his sleep and looked like he meant it. Holding them tight was a concrete task in a helpless wait. Like a piece of you when you were beyond our reach.

We stood by your hospital bed tonight, but you weren't awake to hear us. I was glad to have him near, because we didn't have the words we'd need for anyone else. I got to hold your hand later, when you were awake. Your heart broke, your words had disappeared, but when we showed you pictures of your babies, you caressed the phone as only a mother could. They miss you, you know. They need you to stick around. We need you to stick around.

You squeezed our hands so hard at last. And broken hearts can mend. They have to.