>Hmm.

>My Dad.

One day I go to visit him and he looks transparent, like a sheet of paper. He is begging to die, in pain, refusing food, feeling sick, tired of this thing called life.

(Electric word, life, It means forever and that’s a mighty long time
But I’m here 2 tell u, There’s something else, The afterworld)

Sorry, Prince interlude. That is happening to me a lot lately.

Did you ever have a parent ask you to shoot them? In a kind of jokey, but really not so jokey way? Then they whimper “I can’t do this” right as you are leaving, and you have to just kiss their cheek and get in your car and drive home and pretend to keep living your normal life? It’s a good time.

A couple of days later though – I go to visit him, and he is sitting up, eating soup, watching the Phillies game. He looks a little less papery…well, maybe more like good quality stationary rather than cheap looseleaf. And he makes a joke and asks about your day and waggles his fingers at the grandkids and mentions nothing about assisted suicide.

It is a very confusing thing.

When I get nice and old, I want to die in a fiery car crash – POOF – you are dead. Or, I want my children to konk me over the head with a baseball bat and put me out of my misery.

The long slow decline is agony.

I prepare for death, then death kinda…takes a bathroom break or something.

I guess the situation is less dire. Right now. It is just scary to wonder how long it takes death to finish up in the john.

__

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2 Responses to “>Hmm.”


  1. 1 Ariel April 30, 2010 at 1:52 am

    >I used to have firm ideas about "Life" and then I worked in a nursing home with people who were terminal, one way or another… I've heard such prayers for death:(A person can have a heartbeat and still not be alive…I don't have any answers or wisdom and I'm so sorry you have to deal with that pain.Hugs to you:)

  2. 2 Heather April 30, 2010 at 2:09 am

    >I don't know what it is like to walk in your shoes. But I'm here, listening. Know that you are cared for and thought of.


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