November 4/30
that night
you gave me the greatest gift in the world
to let yourself die in my arms
rather than on my father’s lips
over the phone
on the way home
i couldn’t help but list all the things
we wouldn’t ever do again
in my head
and I remember saying one out loud
as if dad would correct me
and take me back to your house
for coffee
but the last supper had already passed
6 cups of hospital coffee and a hundred hard swallows later
I never realized it was denial
that was making my hands shake
I was training to be an angel
with a textbook of medical terms
I could turn water to wine
inside a saline drip
I was no stranger to the ambulance
I had never helped anyone into a stretcher
without assuring their family
they were going to be ok
I knew that in time
whatever was broken could heal
whatever was bleeding would clot
whatever prescription you lost
could be filled over and over
I was never lying to anyone
except myself,
that night
when my mother said
they were making her comfortable
I thought of pillows and warm socks
instead of morphine and oxygen
when she said
Nanny hasn’t been awake
I just assumed she was exhausted from clipping roses
just a few days ago
when she said
Nanny hasn’t said anything
I assumed the nurses weren’t worth talking to
when she said her pulse was 40
when she said her kidneys failed her
I was so doubtful
that this woman could be stopped
I made a list of things
we could do all day
tomorrow
because at 80
when cancer kissed her neck
she kept the scar just to be coy
and a year later
when it whispered in her ear
she kept the secret
to staying alive
and when her hair started to grow back
it grew back black
I was so sure
that the second coming of christ
was going to be a business trip
because that was the only way
he was gonna get her back
but
I couldn’t pretend 40 was 30 less than you needed
I couldn’t jump on your veins like an open garden hose
and pump life into you
and after your heart stopped beating
and you stopped breathing
you came back to life for another few minutes
to show me
you couldn’t be taken
you were just so tired
and I was in college
I had become a fireman
saved a couple lives other than yours
and one day you were sure my wife
would give me a son as good to me
as I was to you
you never threw in the towel
there was no hooded figure that took you from me
and the rest of march
I knew if you could have
you would’ve said
my work here is done, kiddo
