Hold Tighter

Somewhere a child looks up… heartbroken, as a prized possession, seemingly with a life of its own, now fluttering beyond reach, fades away. A rare treat handed to me by mom with a simple warning, “hold tight.”

Memories of grandmas and grandpas now dwindling, thoughts of big brother serving our country fuzzy, rejected by a father now cohabitating with another, leaving all left behind submersed in sadness. Mother and child walking their separate ways, drawn apart. Connected by birth once tight, beginning to unravel.

The blue-sky obscuring perpetuity, a few clouds floating out of reach, beyond a child’s comprehension. Reaches, grasping at nothing, hands clutching, hoping for a savior. Surrounded by Others… standing near, sharing the moment, aware of the inevitable. For a minute empathizing, watching the child staring at the possession’s erratic path. Understand it’s eventually. Moving on, returning to their destinies. Eventually stepping away.

Family drifting by, touching lives, eventually exiting, moving on to the unknown, out of reach. We may hold tight but to no avail, each slipping away, leaving us behind. Looking around, what will remain? Memories, stories lagging like a curling ribbon.

The child taking mom’s hand, seeking comfort, relief, making eye contact as time inches forward. Her words echoing, “Sorry, you should have held tighter.”

Both look one last time. The balloon slips behind disinterested buildings, as nature pushes and pulls, the balloon struggles, until only a vague memory remains.

The words resonate. “You should have held tighter.”

I should have held tighter. My fault?

Thirty years later, I sit next to the hospital bed, mom now comatose. Life has been cruel, filled with disappointments. Outside the window, a red balloon drifts by and I remember. I should have held on tighter. I let it slip away. It floated away and all I have left is a vague story, a memory.

Regrets tumble through my mind. Often pulled by life, my needs, and desires. My wife and offspring, my job, my education, my interest, me, me, me… Tried to be there, if only I had the time and recourses to assist. Pulled together for the last mile.

Apologies written then sent, I should have done better. I should have held tighter. The inevitable close at hand. Voices in the hallway, unintelligible. Life outside the window continues unabated.

Eyes closed, her hand twitches, she whispers, “You have nothing to apologize for,” a pause, “You have nothing to apologize for, you were a good son.”

It was as if she held to that last moment, those conclusive words to be stated, the balloon string… now released. Time to move on. Freed from earth’s grasp.