Member-only story
Perhaps He Realized He Was Leaving Me Soon
Maybe he realized he was leaving me soon. Maybe he suffered more pain than he let on, or more desperation as he tried to breathe. Maybe he didn’t want me to worry, so he tried not to complain. Maybe, as he lay on the living-room sofa with an oxygen mask, he wished I would spend more time by his side. Maybe his skeletal frame was only a temporary phase. Maybe we were both afraid that the other would mention the phrase: How much time is left?
It’s possible that I was totally unaware of how soon it could be. It’s possible that, as I hunched over my laptop doing class prep, I didn’t want to think about it. It’s possible that I didn’t know how to handle end-of-life issues, or even recognize them. It’s possible that I figured he could be as independent as he was trying to be, even getting up just to drive me to work.
Perhaps our friends thought he wasn’t all that ill. Perhaps they ignored reality, knowing the diagnosis and yet asking if he was improving. Perhaps they considered me so strong that I didn’t need any support. Perhaps they believed that faith would put off the inevitable. Perhaps they thought they could make one last visit someday, a someday which never came.
