Bitter-sweet.

I think about it all
sometimes.
How brave you were,
and it kind of keeps me going.
When  I’m weary,
or teary eyed,
or just plain had enough.

How dare I.
How dare anyone,
moan about  a head cold,
or an ache here and there.
What you had to bear,
was wretched.

and I watched you,
and loved you,
and cried in the dark.

Every day horrors new.
One more pain tormenting you,
and all you would say,
‘Hey,
sooner it be me than a child.’

I  think about it all
sometimes,
and then, try not to.