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lament for carol. current song: the weight of the world by the editors. keep a light on those you love they will be there when you die baby there�s no need to fear baby there�s no need to cry every little piece of your life will add up to one every little piece of your life well it means something to someone you fuse my broken bones back together and then lift the weight of the world from my shoulders again every little piece of your life will add up to one every little piece of your life it means something to someone you touch my face god whispers in my ear there are tears in my eyes love replaces fear every little piece of your life will add up to one every little piece of your life will mean something to someone they were the most poignant words spoken all night last night. her breathing had been so labored, her face pained with grief and sorrow and sheer effort to move the stale air of the house through her lungs. every breath sounded like coffee percolating from her chest. everyone touched her. i had to restrain the instincts ingrained in me from sitting her up and yelling for someone to make me a neb treatment. i'm sure that everyone prayed to someone that she would stay. i prayed that she would go. i am not cold, not callous, not heartless for thinking this. i loved her - i loved her as much as anyone else in that room save her son and her husband. but she was suffering, and all the drugs in the world cannot ease a pain like that; the pain of your family desperately clinging to your bed as you desperately cling to your own life. the pain of your husband holding your face in his hands and telling you he loves you with tears of grief streaming down his cheeks. the pain of your son, screaming and crying, because you'll never be there to hear his words again. so i silently prayed to myself that it would be over. her breathing became faster and more labored, the wheezing from her failing lungs reaching a fever pitch with the wailing of her family. the hospice nurse finally and thankfully cleared us all out of the bedroom, letting only her husband stay. later i asked what he did. he told me that he climbed under the covers and held her in his arms, and told her that he loved her. and he promised to take care of their son. he told her that he'd be alright without her. and then, he appeared in the room, closing the door behind him. the sound that i heard next was one of the most terrible sounds i'd ever heard in my life; the sound of many people realizing that someone had been ripped from their lives. a primal shriek that started low and quiet and climbed to a high pitched ear splitting cry that someone can only make when they feel true pain. i remained silent. this was not my time to cry. i walked around, telling people that i loved them, and holding them in my arms. it was all such a blur - i just shut my mind off and did what i knew to do. they all needed me more than i needed them. that's what a caregiver does. and i knew that all along she had known that it was time for her to go. may she find peace. and may she find rachel. and may they dance together until it's time for everyone else to join them. ~*~ immediate yesterday. ~*~ divination. ~*~ get your own guestbook here |
