Waiting

July 11, 2009

It is as though his breath is my own.

Shallow.

Laboured.

It is the breathing of someone in such intense pain that they forget how to breathe properly.

Your body forgets.

Eating, sleeping, drinking… and breathing are requested by a healthy body on a daily basis.

But when this kind of suffering shows up right in front of your face, it is impossible to ignore.

It commands respect.

It makes you forget.

I am carrying it all right now because I can’t let it go.

Not yet.

My own pain is in there somewhere.

It disguises itself in attempts to sooth my aching family members and resentment toward everyone who walked into this hospital that gets to walk out.

It’s hiding underneath Dawn’s grief over the man of her dreams, married two short years ago, who is trying to die peacefully but won’t give up just yet.

It is hiding in the tension in my back with every cough and moan and glance at the clock.

How much more of this can I take?

One day it will come out.

But not today.

Today turned into tonight, and it is quite suddenly 3am.

Nine hours until touchdown.

Do I really want him to wait?

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~ by lindseywhitemusic on July 11, 2011.

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