The movies never get death right.
They make it sudden and dramatic. Or as if one simply went to sleep one day.
In truth, death is more often a tortuous, slow decline. Good days and bad days. Hopes raised, then dashed.
Reminds me of the very words used to describe war, by those who truly knew war: A mingling of terror and tedium and numbness. No glamour. Nothing to write home about.
Death is paper-thin skin splotched with purple bruises from the IV needles. It is itching from the morphine drip. It is night after night keeping vigil, never knowing when the moment will finally come. It is frustration, exhaustion. It is laundry piled up at home and Christmas lights still on the roof and knowing the routes through the hospital hallways virtually blindfolded. It is a parade of relatives that ebbs and flows, day in and day out, withering by nightfall to only the closest of loved ones.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The reaper is indeed grim
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4 comments:
You painted a really grim picture with your words and it's ring true.
My thoughts are with you at this difficult time. I wish there was more I could say.
Your ordeal is making me relive my M-I-L's death last year. It was similarly difficult and grim. Hang in their. You'll be glad you did all that you are doing.
Even though my mother lived with me before she passed away, I was not there but at work when she breathed her last. I regret so much that I was not there that precise moment to say goodbye and see her off.
I wish you well during this time of lonely vigil. I am sure she appreciates it very much.nyhodui
as Chase said... my thoughts also are with you at this difficult time.
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