Choking Up
Where there's life there's hope, they say. Do not believe them; it is not true. When life is ending and there is no cure, there is no hope: only acceptance or blinding rage and then acceptance.
Yesterday was a bad day. I know what sadness feels like but that doesn't make it easier to confront. As I grow older, my experience increases but it doesn't inure. Covid 19 makes a bad dream a thousand times worse and adds to the toll. The restrictions impede daily life, contact and support for those coping with the illness of a family member. The tragic circumstances continue regardless.
To see you back at home in your living room in a hospital bed, propped up on pillows in sedated sleep was strangely comforting. After weeks of enforced rules and separation, it was a relief to see you at last.
To converse, albeit I did the talking and you, I trust, listened, was calming and the silent pauses meaningful. To hold your hand felt right, even with the barrier of a latex glove. As I left, I bent to kiss your cheek but there was a mask between us and I didn't let it brush your face. I hesitated beside you instead, before I left the room for another to take my place. I hope you noticed.
To know that you are pain-free and restful is reassuring. We are hurting but want no suffering for you.
I deliberately avoided saying goodbye. Even when hope has faded, there is still delusion.
When I returned home, I wanted to call you, to tell you all about my day but I know that is no longer possible.
Dear sister, I love you.
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