The pastor picked me up from school. I think I knew he was coming. I forget. Then we went to pick my brother up from his school. It was sunny. I don't remember if there was snow yet. Probably was.
I was wearing my favorite outfit. Extra light wash jeans. White turtleneck. Light blue vest with little ribbon bows all over it.
We were fortunate. It had been 15 months since my father was diagnosed. Everyone told my mother not to tell us. Cancer is too difficult for children. She was wiser. I'm glad for that.
We got to the hospital. Mom and dad were in the ICU. I think my mother's parents were in town. I don't remember that either. I know we weren't alone when we all walked to McDonald's for dinner. Well. Not all of us. Oh I know who was with us. It was the neighbor, Mrs. M.
I think they'd moved him back up to 6 West by then. There wasn't a reason to keep him in the ICU. He was dying and we all knew it. So we had him moved back to the floor where he'd spent so much time over the last year.
So, down the elevator out the glass doors across the street down the sidewalk past all those little evergreens with the tiny little cones. How many times had I collected pockets full of those little cones?
Past the evergreens and down the concrete steps toward the Exchange. McDonald's was in the end of the building. Ate. Same thing I always ate. Nuggets and honey. Walked back.
Back up the stairs to the sound of hushed but cheerful conversation. Back past the line of evergreens. Back up the sidewalk. Back across the street. Back through the glass doors. Back up the elevator.
I spent time with him. We talked. I did some of the dance for the class Christmas thing that was the next night. Greensleeves.
We were waiting. Waiting for his mother to come. Waiting for eternity to come.
She finally arrived and then I spent a lot of time in the waiting room at the end of the hall. Predictable things on the television. Funny brochures on the wall about asking your doctor if you're healthy enough for sex.
Then they came for us and the lonely trio fairly flew down the hall. But of course we had to walk. Faster than anyone ever walked.
I curled up on his left and my brother on the bed on his right. Mom behind him. Grandma behind me. And we and the staff, good grief how many people were there? And Mrs. M. was still there. We all counted breaths. Begging for one more. Watching them slow. Counting. And then there was none and we all screamed and drew into him. 11:44:48 My brother noted the time.
I don't know how long it was before they needed to do all the checks and disconnections and preparations and of course moving him down to the morgue and prepping the room for the next patient. They escorted us to the Family Room. The place you know exists and never want to use. And we cried and snotted all over things. And we played cards. And the chaplain tried to talk to us. And maybe the pastor had come back or an elder or something. I was so exhausted. But too empty to sleep. And maybe I napped on the floor a bit. I have no idea how long we were there. It was an endless night that simply could not be happening.
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