her eyes flicker. open. staring. but not focusing. not looking at me.
we're here. we've been here for so many hours. when we were told hours and maybe not overnight ... we were here. all of us. here. by her bedside. tears. and hugs.
and then we stayed. in shifts. so that she wouldn't be alone. shifts of hours. mornings. afternoons. nights. days.
sometimes there was just one of us.
sometimes there were many.
some from far away.
some from near.
decisions that we didn't want to make were made.
decisions that we didn't want to talk about were discussed.
and now? hours.
god. this mountain of emotion and ups and downs and all over the place is what is the hardest.
it shouldn't be hard. this dying process should be easy and painless and peaceful. someone should not have to try hard to move on to the next phase in life.
her life has been lived fully.
and as for us?
and think thoughts that we think we shouldn't be thinking.
wishing that she would just let go.
wishing that her heart wasn't so strong.
wishing that she would close her eyes and fall peacefully asleep.
wishing that she would go and take her husband's hand as he led her to their next life.
i remember sitting in his lap.
i have that memory of him.
i don't remember sitting in hers.
she was never the soft, make cookies and cuddle on the couch grandmother.
she was hard. and tough. and strong.
she still is.
i've whispered i love yous to her more often in the past week than i have in my lifetime. i've touched her shoulder and moved her hair out of her eyes. i've consoled her during pain. and shhh shhhhed her to sleep.
i've started and stopped letters to her all week.
it's the curse of a writer, i suppose. we feel ... and our fingers itch to lay words upon a surface.
the next morning ... i look at the scratches and can't send them out for someone else to read.
when i heard hours.
because i realized during writing this ... that it is actually tuesday ... and all good just write things happen on tuesday ... so i'm linking up. go there. read other people's scratches. tell them how amazing they are. because they probably took parts of their hours to just write something. and it's truly amazing what hours can do.