I put the cross in your hand,
closed your palm around it,
squeezed twice
and looked in your eyes,
tried to hope you could understand.
I told you over again
where it was from, Jerusalem
wanted you to see how much I loved you,
how special it was.
But it was a light plastic cross
and your mind was heavy with dying.
So I just tried to remember
the you you were.
Talking in a beautiful voice,
to your beautiful dog.
Tending sweet peas on your allotment,
talking about Jesus
with my brother who read the bible
and cooking brussel sprouts
until they melted.
Then, I looked at you
and whispered to nan
from my heart to
her place in heaven:
Please look after you,
send God to you,
and would he take you
gently, very soon
� Jacci Garside
Reproduced with permission
