copyright 2017 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
"I want to cut myself so deep, the blood runs black."
I went to bed crying and woke up in tears. My legs couldn't run fast enough. The onslaught of grief was everywhere. I knew she was leaving us, and I had to sit by and watch it all in my nice plush front row seat. All I seemed to be missing was a fucking bag of popcorn and a soda. Maybe Milk Duds too. I don't think I could stomach either though.
How do you be okay?
I wasn't okay. There was nothing "okay" about what was happening.
At least when we were trying to save her, I had a mission. I had a focus in my life. I had a goal, something to strive for and believe in.
Now my mission was to help end a life. My hands had turned from healing hands, to hands delivering death.
My heart could not wrap around the idea that I was just supposed to give up now. I was supposed to open the door to the Reaper, watch as it wrapped its claw hands around her heart, and stilled it.
Just a fucking question.
BUT WHAT THE FUCK IS OKAY ABOUT THAT?!
The end was coming too fast for me. I hadn't had enough time to tell her all the things I could never say, to love her like I should have. All the things I didn't understand. All the useless time we both spent fighting each other when we should have that spent time loving each other instead. Everything I couldn't take back. Everything we couldn't change. And now there was no time left TO CHANGE A FUCKING THING.
I went downstairs to check on Mom. It was time to give her another hit or morphine. She seemed good and alert.
"Morning Mom," I said.
Mom just smiled back. She wasn't talking.
I leaned down to her and kissed her cheek. She wrapped her arms around and pulled me into a hug. I started crying again. I wiped my tears away and gave her the morphine.
Then I walked into the kitchen and started pulling out the produce for our juice. I had to remind myself we wouldn't be making Mom any juice. So I'd have to change the calculations for how much produce I pulled out and cut up. I looked at her nutritional supplement pills. It seemed all kinds of wrong not to be opening them up and lining up her pills for the day.
Dad walked in the kitchen.
"So how was last night?" I asked.
"I think we both just passed out," Dad said.
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah. I'm still not caught up on all my sleep, but I feel better from the sleep I did get," Dad said.
"That's good Dad," I said.
"What time is Tim [Mom's Cousin] coming?" Dad asked.
"He said late morning," I said.
"Okay," Dad said.
I walked back into the living room and Dad was crouching on the floor, looking into Mom's baby blue blues. She was looking right back into his. I don't know how you spend decades with the love of your life and then one day just let go. Dad had to be going through his own gutting.
I went upstairs and did my morning therapy. I could hear the juice machine start up and the music playing downstairs as Dad made juice. Then I came back down so Dad and I could have our morning juice together. Our schedules would be pretty messed up since Mom's needs had just dramatically diminished.
Dad pulled his chair up to Mom's bed and sat next to her while he drank his juice and took his pills. I walked in and sat down in my chair watching them together. I had spent so much of my life watching them, and being a witness to their love and the challenges it went through. They were decades of beautiful and painful poetry.
Mom fell asleep holding his hand.
I hoped when I died, I did it holding the love of my life's hand. I hoped when the darkness came for me, love would be the last light I saw on Earth.
Juice Day 123
1 Fuji apple
10 leaves of kale
YOU ARE READING
A HARD RUN INTO HELL Book 4 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesNon-Fiction
I was standing in Hell, burning. I looked over to see my Dad, standing right next to me. He was burning too. We had brought my Mom home from the hospital and care facility, after being diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer and decided not to do chemo, ag...