The Knowing

It was never something we thought about. We all just knew. We knew all too well, and avoided it. For ten years we did everything in our power to prevent that dreaded thought from crossing into our field of vision. These past couple weeks, those thoughts have forced themselves in. It's funny, when I was a little kid the second she opened up her eyes in the morning was the most exciting part of my day. And like clockwork, I sat there. Everyday, with her pair of wire rimmed glasses resting in my palm, waiting anxiously. Recently, it's been the same. I sit in the chair beside her and wait for the moment she opens her eyes. And for those couple of seconds when she does, my day is infinitely better. Even if it is just a couple of seconds, which usually it is. And those couple of seconds she looks at me, I feel like she knows just as well as we do. Even at the height of the disease when her mind is almost completely gone, she knows. And for some reason, that's what saddens me the most.