Continued

It’s happening, everything I knew and feared, like pulling a string and watching it unravel. It doesn’t stop once its starts. It just keeps on unraveling until the seam is hanging open and empty holes mark where that one flimsy piece of string held it all together.

It started as a visit to the hospice, not a work day, just a visit to say “hello.” Within 20 minutes of my arrival I was helping prepare his body for them to take him away, he had died and it was sad, but it’s always sad.

The next day I stayed away.

The next day I went back, it was a special day for my man-child that I hold so close to my heart. (Newport Menthol anyone?) He was fine when I saw him last, he was supposed to be “my little miracle.” I had hope, until I walked into his room and saw what my heart didn’t want to believe, but what I knew to be true. He had declined. Tremendously.

He didn’t even know who I was; he didn’t even know the significance of that day. I stayed all day, and hoped and watched, then cried all the way home and most of the night.

The next day, I wanted so much to go back, but I needed a break, so insteadI called and checked on his condition.

The next day, I went back. He was worse, hell everyone was worse, everyone IS worse. Through his confusion, he asked if he was dying…..I got the nurse in charge. She answered his questions and I could see what it cost her. The sadness, the heaviness of all that weight, sometimes it buries you.

I wanted more time, totally selfish of me. It goes against why we’re there…..to help them leave with dignity and grace, but I didn’t care. I have a soft spot in my heart for him, and it seemed unimaginable that he could have declined so rapidly, in such a short space of time. I needed more, more talks, more jokes, more time.

AND, If you think the day couldn’t get worse, you are so wrong. We lost another resident, one who we all knew and loved. He was the first resident I met during my volunteer training, and he was something special. His passing hurt like hell, I felt battered and bruised in places that take a long time to heal.

I stayed at the hospice almost 10 hours that day.

The next day, I didn’t get out of bed until that afternoon. I was up late hanging and talking with other volunteers and friends at my favorite dive bar. I only left the house because I needed to see there was still a normal world out there that isn’t darkened by loss.

The next day, I went back…..All day, again, and watched it all unravel some more.