The tiny hand was lost within its father’s. Each gripped tightly, softly to the other. Within that touch, free from language or misinterpretation, resided the very essence of love.
The small hand slowly went limp; the larger paused, then released. One now free; the other chained eternally to that moment.
Adam Mitchell is a teacher, mostly, and a learner always. Current published work can be accessed in his dreams.
Left enough for one’s imagination. Nicely told!
Beautiful work, tenderly told. My heart broke.
This stays with me. I keep rereading it.
Wow! You described amazing and sad in fifty words! Well done!
Beautifully written. It would sit well in our quarterly journal of TCF (The Compassionate Friends – charity for bereaved parents) May I have your permission to use it?
Absolutely…can you please let me know if and when you do? And thank you.
Utterly and heartbreakingly beautiful