Dear Husband, Dear Wife

How I wish, dear wife that you would remember me,

my touch, my eyes, my face, my voice, and me as a whole.

alas, fifty years of togetherness separated by this disease,

you're there, but not there,

I sit holding your hand,

at the bench of our old age home,

I walk holding your wrinkled hand at the garden,

my eyes on you constantly,

waiting for that smile, reassuring,

but alas, I've become just a figment of your memory,

a memory that you do not remember.

Oh dear husband it is so painful seeing you,

suffering, carrying the burden of my memory,

if only I could tell you, shouting,

from up above the sky that I am no more,

that you are yet to move on,

we were each other's support systems, I know,

if one breaks, the other breaks too.

how I wish I could go and hold your trembling hands,

desperately longing for support,

and say that I am there, really there and not in your imagination.

it's so lonely up here,

silent spectator to see you deteriorate,

I pray for your health and we'll meet someday, up here,

you can hold my crumpled hand as much as you want!