He had been sick for awhile,
I followed his nurse inside,
trepidation welling up.
A farmer, work showing in his calloused hands,
In the middle of the room,
A pristine hospital bed, in a small house.
His wife was there, reporting fading life.
The nurse encouraged her,
Tell him to go, that it is ok, he waits for you.
She whispers this to him,
And slowly, a tear comes down his face,
The last of his life sliding away, and it’s ok.
And a tear slid down my face. I’m still an open wound from saying the same thing to my mom. It was okay. This lovely portrait of his end is more than okay. Thank you!
It was the kind of goodbye I wished for all my patients after that. I am so glad you were able to be there with your mom, knowing how hard it must have been to let go.
beautiful. Reminds me of when my father-in-law passed and we were there holding his hands, telling him it was okay to let go. he had been in a coma and was suffering… 🙁
Thank you. So glad you were able to be with him at the end.
🙂
Now I understand your response to my poem from 2019 about my husband’s shrinking world. It is such an honor to witness the passing of a beloved. Sounds like this is a familiar role for you. Essential and meaningful work. The tear … last of his life sliding away … Thank you for this.