2.08.2018

never not there

We didn't see it.


But then we didn't need to.


We know the signs of the aftermath.





Only his longer events leave him so spent.


For hours he'll be near sleep.


Unable to lift his head.


To form a complete sentence.


To remember what month. 


Or even what day it is.


Epilepsy is a thief.


Always on the prowl.


His is tired but peaceful now.


He is loved.


His is comforted.


His eyes no longer look frightened.


Just tired.


This soothes my heart a smidge.


Yet knowing that we didn't see it.


That he was alone when it struck.


I suppose I should solace knowing he doesn't remember.


My heart is a constant ache.


Now always on the surface.


But never not there. 

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