Trying a new stream of conciousness approach format tonight…probably will regret it tomorrow.

We’ll see.

Restless night, but sufficient sleep and you think you’re ready to go to the hospital.

No matter how nice or new or how wonderful the staff, hospitals SUCK. Anyone still have any ambiguity about my feelings on this? Let me help you. Hopsitals Suck as in, SUCK – Leave one with uncomfortable feelings of loss and grief or pending loss and grief. Often smell funny – either antiseptic or decidedly not antiseptic. Not sure which is worse.

Change Scene=> Frail, skeletal man taking up less than one half the real-estate of the single-size hospital bed. Swaddled in blankets to keep the tiny bit of body heat he still has directed inward towards his body. Shallow, agonal breathing. Pasty skin. Moments when his breathing pauses and the silence hangs in the air, awaiting the resolution of the next inhale or exhale. You find yourself holding your own breath, in time with the sporadic pattern, willing it to proceed to the next, proper beat in the sequence.

You’re told to say your good-byes. That he will not let go while you’re there. Gently holding his cold, so, so cold, hand; feeling the rapid pulse against your own. Remaining calm as you say I love you, you have given me everything and I will miss you but you can go now and be in peace while the latent part of you rages silently “no. no. no. no. no!!!!!! I don’t care if I’m selfish. I don’t care if I’m grown-up. At least wake up and look at me and SAY something, tell me you love me, tell me you’re proud of me, tell me I’m going to be okay. Tell me, tell me, tell me. There will be no one left with any authority to tell me anything when you are gone. And part of me is not grown-up enough for this. Can’t you see? How can you leave me?

But maturity, and destiny, and above all biology prevail and you are gone now. My Daddy is gone now. My remaining parent.

It’s me and my sister. And she has her husband and her kids and I have….uh oh….no one who is just mine. Who will love me now like you and Mama did? Who am I going to be special to?

We leave the hospital. Sister, brother-in-law, me…dinner and wine at the house. My parents house. I guess our house now. Dinner and wine. Wine and dinner. Wine and wine and wine. Lots of wine. I’ll think tomorrow if I have to.

I was wrong. It didn’t take until tomorrow for me to hate stream of conciousness as a style for me. I think I hate this post already, but I’m too tired to care. I just needed to talk to someone. Someone without a face or a voice at the moment because it makes me cry to call my friends and share the bad news; they’ve been so good to me and I feel like all I do is call with the latest tragedy.

OK, resolution, I must find something joyful to write about next…I need to believe in joy and hope. I WILL find my way back. My parents would expect nothing less of me.