I was holding his hand.
10:02:58 PM     comment []

Mike just wrecked my car.

He's fine.

I'm freaking the fuck out.
2:27:38 PM     comment []

Okay, so I am surprised...and exhausted. I'm still at his bedside - been here since yesterday morning.

Last night my friends all left around 7 and I stayed put by the bed, even when Mike's car broke down on his way here and I had to get a neighbor from upstairs to go and pick him up. During that time my Dad was the most awake he'd been all day. He still wasn't speaking or looking at me but I could tell that he was awake and I just held his hand. After Mike got here my Dad went back to sleep. Around midnight Mike joined me at my father's bedside and for three hours we were riveted, watching his breathing slow to a barely discernable wheeze, his limbs twitching, his face grimacing from time to time. For about an hour and a half I cried and held his hand, certain that every minute was his last. I counted the seconds between each breath...nine.

Finally at 3 am, Mike and I were both falling asleep in our chairs. He went to the bed and I turned all the lights off in the house. I couldn't bare to leave my Dad's side, to let go of his hand. I pulled the two swiveling office chairs up as close as I could and somehow (I'm 5'11) fit myself into them. I slept on and off until 8:30 this morning, never letting go of his hand.

Even if I have to martyr myself, I will make sure that this man, whom I love more than any other, will not die alone.
9:24:22 AM     comment []