He came out of nothingness, took form, was loved, was always bound to return to nothingness. George Saunders

I remember the days of living in limbo,
waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Catching glimpses of cancer, that evil thief,
lurking around the corner.

Caught up in the rhythm of our days,
I got grew accustomed to not seeing my future clearly.
Got comfortable existing in the moment,
grateful that Jimmy was still here.

Those were the days when nothing was certain,
except the ending of the story.
Unlike those modern mysteries I love to read,
I wasn’t in a rush to know how the rest of the plot unfolded.

We were moving moment to moment, hour to hour,
staying up late, reluctant to allow the day to end.
There was no forgetting the only possible outcome
or living fully between scans.

No more tests, no more markers.
We measured our days based on
how much Jimmy could eat and drink,
what time he got out of bed.

Bounded by these four walls,
our world expanded to hold those who loved Jimmy best.
Left without a plan or long-term purpose,
we relished every meal and peal of laughter

We followed Jimmy’s lead on everything,
uncertain when he’d decide to go.
Believed him when he told us
there were beings in the corner who’d come to walk him home.

Despite everything taken from us,
we did get gifts in return.
More years, better days, one more adventure,
extra trips around the sun.

Even when the road gets dark and narrow,
the path is always there.
Just take it stone by stone,
and you will find your way.