This started out from the perspective of Waverly when she was little but then it moved into how I observe all the kids over the years and how they might experience their dad’s struggle with cancer. -Cher
I Watch You Stay
I watch the room make space for you,
While you pull your chair closer to the table.
I watch you move slower
through the ordinary things
doors, vehicles, hallways,
summer weekends,
Sunday mornings,
supper time.
I watch you leave
for hospitals,
for surgeries,
and cancer treatments
I do not fully understand.
And I watch you return.
Changed, sometimes.
But still Dad.
Still the laugh I know.
Still the eyes that find us.
Still the love
that reaches farther
than your body can.
I watch you lose pieces
of the life you had,
but somehow
you keep handing us
pieces of yourself.
At the table.
At the lake.
At school.
At church.
At home.
I watch you laugh
when the house is loud,
when the babies mispronounce something,
when Mom is doing twelve things,
and somebody has their shoes on the wrong feet.
I watch you love Mom
in the quiet ways
with your eyes,
with your patience,
with the way you keep putting in effort
even though you have limits.
I watch you need help sometimes,
and I have learned
that helping each other
Is what makes us a family
And I know God sees it too.
He sees you
in your chair,
in the hospital,
in the vehicle,
at the supper table,
beside Mom,
beside us.
He sees every quiet fight
nobody else can see.
And I hope you know
I see you too.
I watch you, Dad.
And what I see
is love.