Sometimes, when I am driving, I put my hand on the passenger seat armrest and ask you to hold my hand. I squeeze my hand into a fist and I remember how your hand use to feel in mine. I remember your little boy hand, your teenage hand and your grown man hand. It feels so warm, so innocent, so full of life.
Then I let go and pray that I never forget how it feels.
Your hand.
In mine.
Stay with me ok? Be there when I need to hold your hand.
So I can always remember what it was like to feel something.
I'm empty without you,
mama
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