katmeow
Bluelight Crew
Silent Goodbye - 31/3/03 - 5am
No-one rings your house in the middle of the night with good news and that's the case when our phone rings at 3.10am this morning. I throw on yesterdays jeans and jumper and we get into the car, trying to wipe sleep away. I've done this drive before. Three years ago on Thursday to be exact. A drive towards an inevitability you just don't want to face.
The car trip is a silent one, though my mind screams with random thoughts. I think about my last visit with you when you told me the worst thing was losing your memory and having no appetite. And I was racked with guilt that my friends and I had laughed about those very feelings after partying the weekend before. I berate myself for not coming over last Monday when I had the day off. I remember I didn't get to tell you that things didn't work out with the boy I met. I forgot to brush my teeth before coming over here, though why it should matter I just don't know. And I think about what a fucking terrible disease cancer is.
At the hospital we wait on crappy plastic chairs in the emergency room. The staff give us a sympathetic look as the security guard leads us towards the deserted corridors. My dad makes some stupid crack about following the yellow brick road cos the tiles are yellow. It's not funny but we laugh cos it breaks the tension.We finally get to your room and it's fifteen minutes too late. Fifteen minutes, I wonder. There was the five I spent brushing my hair and looking for my watch and then the ten we spent walking round the building cos I parked on the wrong side. But then, no matter what time you get here in a situation like this, it's always too late.
I kiss your forehead and stand back, tears roll soundlessly down my cheeks. I look round at my family, now robbed of another member. The last time we were all together was Christmas, just three short months ago when you were still well. Pa looks lost as he packs your things into a pink plastic bag from the hospital. My uncle and aunty stand with their arms round each other, heads bowed. In just under three years, they have lost their sister and now their mum is gone too. There's nothing more to do, so we trail back out into the cool morning air. More hugs, the kind were you just don't want to let go, then we head back to the car. Another drive where no words are spoken, we are alone with our thoughts.
And back home, in the early hours of the dawn when sleep evades, a single tear escapes the corner of my eye and I say a silent goodbye.
***
Nana died this morning at 3.30am. I wrote this when I came home from the hospital.
No-one rings your house in the middle of the night with good news and that's the case when our phone rings at 3.10am this morning. I throw on yesterdays jeans and jumper and we get into the car, trying to wipe sleep away. I've done this drive before. Three years ago on Thursday to be exact. A drive towards an inevitability you just don't want to face.
The car trip is a silent one, though my mind screams with random thoughts. I think about my last visit with you when you told me the worst thing was losing your memory and having no appetite. And I was racked with guilt that my friends and I had laughed about those very feelings after partying the weekend before. I berate myself for not coming over last Monday when I had the day off. I remember I didn't get to tell you that things didn't work out with the boy I met. I forgot to brush my teeth before coming over here, though why it should matter I just don't know. And I think about what a fucking terrible disease cancer is.
At the hospital we wait on crappy plastic chairs in the emergency room. The staff give us a sympathetic look as the security guard leads us towards the deserted corridors. My dad makes some stupid crack about following the yellow brick road cos the tiles are yellow. It's not funny but we laugh cos it breaks the tension.We finally get to your room and it's fifteen minutes too late. Fifteen minutes, I wonder. There was the five I spent brushing my hair and looking for my watch and then the ten we spent walking round the building cos I parked on the wrong side. But then, no matter what time you get here in a situation like this, it's always too late.
I kiss your forehead and stand back, tears roll soundlessly down my cheeks. I look round at my family, now robbed of another member. The last time we were all together was Christmas, just three short months ago when you were still well. Pa looks lost as he packs your things into a pink plastic bag from the hospital. My uncle and aunty stand with their arms round each other, heads bowed. In just under three years, they have lost their sister and now their mum is gone too. There's nothing more to do, so we trail back out into the cool morning air. More hugs, the kind were you just don't want to let go, then we head back to the car. Another drive where no words are spoken, we are alone with our thoughts.
And back home, in the early hours of the dawn when sleep evades, a single tear escapes the corner of my eye and I say a silent goodbye.
***
Nana died this morning at 3.30am. I wrote this when I came home from the hospital.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
