Everytime I stop and close my eyes, I remember you. I can feel my eyes start to sting and my nose begin to run as I fight back tears.
I remember you in your last moments. On that bed. So frail. It was like the only thing remaining in your body was your breath. The rest of you had already gone. There was no acknowledgment. No holding my hand or turning your face towards me. There was just emptiness.
I see you almost lifeless on that bed. I stroked your head as I tried to comfort you and noticed it was still warm. I touched your cheeks, your cheek bones were prominent but the rest of your cheeks were hollow. Your cheeks were cold. I placed my hands on your chest and noticed how frail you had become. I could feel every bone along the top of your chest. I stopped towards your left shoulder and remembered your pacemaker. Finally I held your arm just at the point it meets your hand and watched your breath intently.
As we recited prayers in the hope that it would bring you peace, and rest your aching body I noticed that your chest had stopped moving. In shock and panic I moved away.
These are the last moments I remember of you. In that bed. The thought of it leaves me feeling sad. Empty.
I try to remember your last movements outside the nursing home and hospital. Ones where you are conversing with me. But they are not as vivid or overpowering as this memory.
I am unable to shake the feeling of sadness to see you so still, lifeless and frail on that bed. It’s disturbing. It’s not the way I want to remember you. Because you were so much more than the lifeless body that I keep remembering.
I miss you.
©️BijM01, February 2019
Normal is not real 