Me, Him & all the Ways there Are to Die
featured on the essential life
When you find out you've got the "breast cancer gene", life changes dramatically.
When you lose someone that you love, the loss never gets easier, you just become more familiar with the loss.
What would you do if you found yourself in a marriage where you partner only married you for citizenship?
When you love someone who doesn't love you back, letting go might seem like the only option. When that someone is your father, however, things become much more complicated.
The ending of a relationship is hard. The ending of a relationship just before your partner passes away can be that much harder.
Relationships end all the time, sadly leaving sorrow in their wake. It's beautiful when you can turn that sorrow it to lovely words.
There are so many big questions within a single existence. True courage is being brave enough to ask the tough questions, get the answer & keep moving forward.
He doesn't tell me how he feels - he doesn't have to though. I see it in him. I see it in the set of his shoulders, and the colour of his eyes. I see it in his gait, and the deepness in his voice. I see it in the grinding of his teeth and the way he keeps his hands in his pockets. He doesn't tell me how he feels because I already know.
We held hands when we got here today - we held hands, just like we've done a million times before. It's a touch that I should know, but I don't because this touch is dying, & I hate it.
Lines of sweat connect our palms, & it's like fire between us & I want to let go. I want to let go, as if letting go will bring the relief of waking from a dream. I want to let go as if that will make us both better. I want to let go...this want is so much more than physical, & I know he feels the same. He doesn't tell me how he feels, but I know.
How Does it Feel?
"How are you?" I ask him.
"I'm fine," he says & he smiles. I love his smile. I love a lot of things about him, but I really love his smile - it spreads across his face, & it breaks us both open. He says he's fine, but he's not fine.
He is thirty-three, & he has cancer. We are here for his fifth surgery today - he is not fine.
I remember when we met, I remember our first date, & kissing him goodbye. I remember when he left that night I was full of reservations. I listed them in my head & counted them on my fingers: he lives so far away. He's a virgo too. His birthday is the same as my mother's, & his name the same as my father's. He's so casual, & so hard to pin down....he's sick never ever entered my mind.
The Waiting Room
I'm sitting in the waiting room now, & a song plays in my mind - "who's going to watch you die". I hate this song now, & I don't want to watch him die...I don't want him to die, but it's not up to me. Who is making these decisions?!
I'm sitting here in this waiting room...this place is hell. This is hell & my inside are burning. This is hell, & I'm so God damned scared. This is hell & I hate it. This is hell, & it feels like he & I have never been anywhere else.
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