Have you ever watched a loved one die?
I mean- really watched it. Stared into their beautiful eyes as the light faded, witnessed that transition from ‘I see you’ to ‘I don’t.’
Have you ever held a loved one’s hand as they lay on the shitty, scratchy cotton of the cheap hospital bed sheets? Have you ever ran your fingers through their fine, sparse hair and spoken honest words of love?
I mean- really spoken them. Said everything you ever wanted and needed to say, from ‘I love you’ to ‘I’m afraid.’
Have you ever heard the final words of a loved one while they are on the very brink of death? Have you ever listened to their raw, raspy words, all the while knowing that they would be the very last of their beautiful words that you would ever hear?
I mean- really listened to them. Waited patiently while they said everything they ever wanted and needed to say, from ‘I love you’ to ‘I’m afraid.’
I ask, because… I haven’t.
I wasn’t there when my loved one laid alone on the shitty, scratchy, cotton of the cheap hospital bed sheets.
I wasn’t there to look into their eyes or hold their hand or run my fingers through their hair or listen or speak.
I wasn’t there-I should have been there, but I wasn’t- I wasn’t, I wasn’t there for you, oh, God, I wasn’t there, I wasn’t there, I-