Tonight my Daddy died, I drove home from the hospital by myself. We had 3 vehicles there – mine, my mom’s, and Jeremy’s. We couldn’t leave them so somehow we sucked it up and each drove home alone.
When I tried to plug my phone in for music, my radio suddenly would not recognize it. Then none of the stations would pick up. Then the CD player would just eject the cd’s and not play them. It was so stupid, because everybody knows music is my sanity. But that night, something wanted me to be silent.
So there I was, driving an hour home in silence…forcing tears to stay in so I could see (it was late at night and rainy – I know, surprise! I drove an hour home in the drizzling rain…). I voice memo’d myself the poem that was in my head, and I talked to my dad. I’m home now. My mother wanted to be alone. Tomorrow is probably going to be shit. I’ve never planned a funeral for the most part by myself.
Dorie will have Jesse. J will be at work. Ralph will be on his way back to Alabama. I will be…physically here, probably consciously somewhere far far away. I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now.
Here’s the first draft of the non-rhyming and likely ridiculous poem. I don’t know what else to say.
Time moved so slowly for days, yet things rush all around me and at me now-
things I need to do
and things that others want me to do
and things that I’m told I should do.
So I go through those motions and I do those things I’m supposed to,
But I don’t feel the movements.
I don’t feel anything.
I only last saw him moments ago…
even though I last saw him “dead.”
it already feels like forever, and I didn’t want to leave.
Everything feels like forever in the worst possible way.
Forever since the ER – the last time I saw his blue eyes open at the sound of my voice; the last time he squeezed my hand.
Forever since I felt his warmth against my cheek as I held his hand to my face and told him that he would be taken care of.
Forever since I held his hand in mine and stroked his brow, telling him it would be ok if he left; telling him I would be OK.
Forever, even though only two hours ago, since the tubes were removed and he began to struggle and gasp for air, and I wiped the sweat from his arms and chest and face.
Forever since I saw his chest rise and fall for the last time.
Forever since he grimaced and I watched him leave his body with one of my hands on his arm and one on his face.
Forever since I looked at the nurse and with tears in her eyes and her fingers on the pulse point his wrist she said, “he’s gone, it’s done. You’ve met his wishes, what can do for YOU now?”
I just shook my head, speechless, and said, “thank you.” I feel so stupid for saying that now.
It has only been two hours.
Soon it will have been days…
but always, it will feel like forever…
He is really gone…
gone for two hours and I feel my own coma slipping over me, begging me to stay here where I am
and to never forget,
afraid that if I live my life I will forget the most important things…
his voice, his laugh, his scent, his joy, his love…
But life goes on for the living…
All I want is to go to sleep now, and sleep for a thousand years…
not waking up until I’m with him again…
But they tell me that I shouldn’t feel that way; that if I do, I need a pill.
They don’t understand who we were together and who he was to me…
I don’t need a pill; I’m just in my own private coma…
The world will just have to wait until I wake from it.