She asked him to be brave too

At first there was just:

Coughing

Congestion,

Nausea,

Numbness

 

The doctor saw

Creatinine,

Distention,

Hypertension,

Sepsis.

Thick words.

Medical words.

Foreign words.

It was worse then we’d realized.

And then, in the CCU

That last time

The glare of the cold white walls

From the long fluorescent bulb

That fell hard against her grey skin

Against the cold metal and plastic wires

The mask on her face

The steady, careful pulse of machines, monitors,

Mechanical boxes that lived for her.

That sustained whatever was left.

Her body was broken.

She was a butchered animal

With her arms limp

And her chest heaving with the push of the machine

Her eyelids shifting

Her feet trembling

Automatic responses they are called.

I wonder what was there,

Inside,

The moments before her heart stopped. I wonder if she could hear what I said

How sorry I was

Just so deeply sorry

 

Life without mom is a little like that. At first it was all pain and tears. Every day was hard. I’d wake up and the sun was there, still shining in the sky but the world didn’t make sense anymore. Then little by little, that pain faded even more. I cried only once a week instead of every day. And then I stopped crying. I moved forward.

 

I’m doing it all, mom

Even more than you could have ever imagined.

For me and

For you