Her father died died around 30 years ago maybe. Her and her siblings had been waiting with him in the hospital for a few days. She said she wouldn’t leave him when it was time. He told her to go home, that it would be okay.
She never forgave herself for leaving that night. Allowing herself rest. Maybe that was what all those sleepness nights were about. Fearing someone else might slip away without her noticing.
I never understood until the day my own father died. A few years prior to his death, I moved several states away. Before leaving we sat down to catch up, to say goodbye. He asked for a picture of my girlfriend at the time, someone he’d yet to meet. Not one for taking pictures, I told him I would get him one eventually.
The last day I saw him I knew I was forgetting something. They had given him morphine to help ease the pain and help him sleep. I thought I had more time. At least one more fucking day. Even just a few hours.
I’d settle for a fleeting moment of getting to tell him I love you one last time.
I was lucky I had any time with him really. But I’m selfish and life isn’t fucking fair and I thought I had more time.
He never woke up. I held him as his body was shutting down. His lungs struggling to get the air his body so desperately wanted, even though it was shutting down. I told him it was okay to let go. I told him I would carry him forever. Please don’t come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I finally understand mom. I finally get it…
You may not find all that you’re after
And in the end, I hope it doesn’t matter