I am not ready to let you go.

I realize that if this were a movie, I would

at some point

need to start the graceful acceptance.

But I am not ready.

I cannot even end that sentence in “yet” because that would imply

that someday, eventually, I would be ready.

But I am not, and I cannot even imagine it.

If the mother of one of my patients expressed these feelings,

perhaps I would think,

“She is not yet ready to accept reality.”

Or perhaps, because I have you, and I cannot imagine not having you,

and the simple act of writing these words is making me cry,

I would understand

and wordlessly agree with her that reality is now, is what you make it.

Completed March 27, 2014.