“It would be very nice if you woke up now”, I say
as I hold his hand within mine –
as I’ve held his hand within mine every day for weeks -
“I will not make it in this world without you”, I say
as I do not let go of his hand
Minutes later the nurse tells me visiting hours have expired –
(‘such a poor choice of words’, I think)
I hug his limp body lovingly before leaving his hospital room
I will refresh the flowers in the vase by the window again tomorrow –
as I do every day –
the flowers in the window will not die or appear dead – I won’t allow it
His beautiful energy has always been amber –
not simply just yellow – not simply just orange –
but, amber
it means he has achieved “balance and peace”; I’ve read –
and I’ve always politely envied him for this
In the middle of a minefield he remains a calm bouquet of sunflowers –
I – frequently, am a tornado disrupting all around me -
him - a softly whispered and confident word in the midst of the storm –
and – sometimes – I am the storm -
Him – with a confident and reassuring hand within my hand –
His hand within mine, often – until he could hold onto it no longer –
even seemingly unbendable sunflowers bend when there is enough wind to bend them
I listen to the heart monitor - it beeps as he lays in his hospital bed
I listen to it beeping, beeping, beeping – and I am comforted by the repetition only because I know it means he is still with me –
it means he is not dead –
because I don’t think I could handle that –
his name and the word “dead” need to remain enemies –
I will not allow anything different than that – I will not allow it
____
“Hallo, Melinda” I say as I approach the hospital counter in the lobby the following morning
“Hello, Jimmy, please sign here” she says with a smile –
as she hands me my visitor’s badge to pin to my shirt for the day
“Is he awake?”, I ask before leaving the counter and walking to the elevator to press the number 5 button on the panel -
“No – no – not today, Jimmy – but I’m certain he’ll be happy you are visiting”, Melinda replies kindly, genuinely, and with a loving heart
If only he could meet Melinda (and not be in a coma) –
she’s lovely and he would adore her –
he needs to wake up so he can meet her –
he needs to wake up so I can hear his voice again –
____
“I will not make it in this world without you”, I say to him –
“I just won’t”
I am immediately bothered by the sight of his feeding tube –
though I’ve seen it daily for weeks –
a reminder he is unable to feed himself –
“Patrick”, I say – and then my eyes fill with tears –
because there are so many words I want to say to him…
“I forgive you”, I whisper, as I move from my uncomfortable visitor’s chair –
to sit on the edge of his hospital bed next to him –
I take his hand within mine – “I forgive you – and I love you”, I whisper
as I listen to the beeping of the machine –
it beeps, and it beeps, and it beeps –
it is reminding me he is still alive –
it is reminding me he is not dead
____
I prefer hills and valleys over straight lines that do not bend
(as I listen to the heart monitor beeping –
as I watch the line jump up and then jump up again, comfortingly) –
I prefer them all of the time…
The beeping suddenly ceases as the steady sound sounds – it sounds – and it is a steady sound – without variation – an irritating and obnoxious sound –
I’d kill the sound if I could – I’d kill it and then stab it again and again and again afterwards – if I could – it would be dead and I’d stab it again and again and again –
I would kill it because I know what it means –
I am told to leave the room immediately – and there is not an option to disagree –
The curtain is pulled quickly and efficiently around his hospital bed as I exit the room and additional medical professionals enter –
I quickly notice the flowers in the vase by the window are vibrant –
I replaced them only hours ago –
they will not die – because I will not allow them to die –
I will replace them tomorrow –
because I will not allow them to die –
I will not allow it
____
I sit in the downstairs lobby -
and I sit and I sit and I sit
Waiting…
____
30 minutes later –
I immediately notice Melinda’s smile is forced as I approach the hospital counter in the lobby –
I see she is uncomfortable and awkward –
and I know what this means
____
Every morning I’ve visited the florist,
requesting a mixture of purple gladiolus, goldenrod & red poppies
(I requested this combination every morning -
they were all your favorites – you loved them all and you couldn’t choose a favorite – you were like that – and I loved that about you) –
“I will not make it in this world without you, my love”, I whisper aloud
(I whisper these words to him, even though he is not with me) –
as tears involuntarily escape my eyes – and I begin to think horrible thoughts
Melinda signals the first-floor security guard because she is worried –
____
I am not okay
Comments