It was my turn,
to watch over you that afternoon.
I was in the chair next to your bed,
when the nurse came to check on you.

I was aware fluid was building in your lungs;
a sign death was coming.
When the nurse said it was likely
to happen that night
I was taken aback.
The certainty was voiced
by another with quiet assuredness.

I sat frozen in the moment
I wanted to cry out like a child
“no you can’t go!”
Instead I broke down crying.

The call to my sisters
Was fraught with emotion
“come now, it’s time”

I prepared the room
for their arrival.
I talked to you
as I moved furniture around.
Explaining Jean would want to
Sit close to you
I hope you heard.

Death is not what I thought it would be.

Death washed over you
peacefully, silently.
You’re breathing softened;
to nothing.
Your heart was as
defiant as you were in life
coming to a resounding final rest.

Silence filled the room
wrapping its soft arms around us,
as our grief filled our souls.
I bent over to kiss your cheek,
It was cold and pasty.
It was then I realised you had passed much earlier
than we were aware.

Were you there, watching on
Mothering the living?
I hope you were there.

               Luvbeingadyke

Posted with Blogsy