We knew she was dying. We had vainly tried to go to our hospital room and rest, but we knew she was dying. Instead of resting we stayed up and talked about what we had hoped for; her recovery and finding out who she was at home--at home with her mom and dad. They called and said, "It's time." We put our shoes on and walked out the room and down the hall and pressed the elevator button. I thought, "Just don't get on the elevator." Hope was gone so I went to desperation and hope for magic, that if I just didn't get on the elevator to the CICU floor where she was dying, then none of this would be so and she would live. If we took the stairs, maybe we could take her home.
Ahhh. This is heart-wrenching. Such a beautiful expression of one of those moments that must hang suspended in your mind, unreal and yet utterly real. Thank you for your writing. It helps me contact those moments in my own experience when my mind was grasping for any sliver of a chance that what had happened could be undone.
ReplyDeleteAudrey,
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry. These memories must be flooding back right now.
Wishing you peace, love and light on the eve of your sweet daughter's 1 year anniversary.
Amy
Thinking of you today and missing our sweet girls terribly. I wish there was anything I could do to ease the pain, but I know that only having Caitlin back in your arms would accomplish that. I'm remembering her with you today. Deanna (Eliana's mom)
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