I am overcome with a restlessness that I can’t quite name. I am waiting on death, with fear, with rage, with hope. We know the end is near, but I am not ready. I want him to find peace from the pain and from the sinking knowledge that he will never see his loved ones again…but..but my soul can’t let him go. I want to protect him, surround him with all my grace, all my love, and heal the death within him. I want to sweeten his breath, and see him smile 5 years from now. I want him to watch his grand-children grow up. I want him to grow old with his beautiful wife.
I am restless. I walk the halls, every sense heightened. My skin feels like daggers, standing on end, threatening everything around us. I hold his hand, so weak, so cold. I look out the window, silently begging for something more..something to intervene. I hold his wife, I wipe away her tears. I grip the fucking plastic chair that they give people to wait on the dying.
I breathe, I breathe it all in. You are wanted, in every sense of the word. You are mine; you are hers, you are theirs. We want you..we can’t bear to live without you. god-damnit, please, why can’t someone do something. You can’t leave us yet..its not time. Your silence is breaking me; where is your laugh...I hear your breath, machines. I see your chest, once strong, once warm, once everything, rise and fall..machines..Where are you? Can you hear me?
I am restless for you. I want to follow you, guide you to that place, wherever it may be..say your name once more, and smile as you find your peace…but here I am, watching you fade, wondering, waiting on death.
I love you.