3-16-08
I spent an hour getting ready because I didn't know what to expect, or who to expect for that matter, and after going through every combination of clothing I had brought with me to Wyoming, in a small and overly cramped suitcase, I decided on a top that suited the occasion. Aunt Christy met me at the door; I left piles of clothes strewn across the floor and bed. We trotted down the steps and met Uncle Brett at the bottom. He was dressed appropriately, in cowboy boots, seven sizes larger than mine, and a cowboy hat. The night was warm so we decided to walk to the bar. It was weird to be out with my aunt and uncle, weird to be headed to a bar, to drink with them and smooze the locals, but being 22 at heart, my aunt and I were soon hand-in-hand, laughing hysterically, skipping our way into town.
At the bar, men smoked, women cackled, couples danced, everyone drank, all the while live music drowned out the majority of any conversation. I danced with some cowboys, drank some Coronas, and then among the fog of smoke, I danced with my Uncle Brett. To this day, it still embarrasses me... because we were the only two people on the floor. Me- who knows nothing of Country Swing dancing, and Uncle Brett- who also knows nothing of Country Swing dancing... but thinks he does... which made all the difference. ;)
tuesday night at the bible study
we lift our hands and we pray over your body
but nothing ever happens
When we got to the hospital, I wrung my hands as we walked through the ICU. I didn't know what to expect, or how to interact with the man who used to be my uncle... the one who was hooked up to wires and cords and a breathing machine. His chest forcibly rising and then giving in, falling slowly. His eyes fluttered but never opened. Mom walked straight up to him, grabbed his hand, talked quietly. I couldn't do it- I stayed to the side. Staring at Uncle Brett, praying to God he didn't open his eyes and see me, make me responsible for something I was so afraid of... him. I was afraid of him and even as it comes to my mind now, I realize, I was afraid of feeling anything in those moments because I knew he was dying. Everybody leaves. It is only a matter of time.
on the floor at the great divide
with my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
i am crying in the bathroom
He woke up about twenty minutes later and mumbled some inaudible phrase. With great effort, he tried to take his feet out from under the sheets and climb out of bed. My mom held him down, tried to explain that he couldn't get up, couldn't disconnect himself from that damned air mask he hated so much, the irritating thing that was cutting into the bridge of his noise, averting tears from their natural course. He was crying. He wanted so badly to get up and leave. Funny, so did I. I couldn't breathe in that room, filled with beeps and pumps and lines of hypnotic lights falling and rising.
We were a sight, the three of us. Uncle Brett fighting the nurse, trying to get out of bed. Mom, now crying, speaking softly in explanations and pleading with my uncle to relax, stay in bed. And me, pressed so far into the corner, terrified of my own helplessness, slipping silently, unnoticed, into panic.
In the hall, in whispered conversations, my grandma gives him a week.
In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window
In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing
I am not afraid of death. There was a time when I was once, but now, I know better. Still, the first time I saw a dead body was at the viewing of my own uncle's funeral. My aunt is beside herself, crying so hard the coffin shakes as she hugs her husband's still body. I walk slowly to the front of the room and stand cautiously beside him. His lips are poised in an almost-smile, which makes me smile, thinking he is in on some joke none of us know. This is not my Uncle Brett, but his personality lingers in his last facial expression. Even in the stuffy funeral parlor, through tears that come unexpectedly, I am at peace.
Oh the glory that the Lord has made
And the complications when I see His face
In the morning in the window
Oh the glory when He took our place
But He took my shoulders and He shook my face
And He takes and He takes and He takes
At the bar, men smoked, women cackled, couples danced, everyone drank, all the while live music drowned out the majority of any conversation. I danced with some cowboys, drank some Coronas, and then among the fog of smoke, I danced with my Uncle Brett. To this day, it still embarrasses me... because we were the only two people on the floor. Me- who knows nothing of Country Swing dancing, and Uncle Brett- who also knows nothing of Country Swing dancing... but thinks he does... which made all the difference. ;)
tuesday night at the bible study
we lift our hands and we pray over your body
but nothing ever happens
When we got to the hospital, I wrung my hands as we walked through the ICU. I didn't know what to expect, or how to interact with the man who used to be my uncle... the one who was hooked up to wires and cords and a breathing machine. His chest forcibly rising and then giving in, falling slowly. His eyes fluttered but never opened. Mom walked straight up to him, grabbed his hand, talked quietly. I couldn't do it- I stayed to the side. Staring at Uncle Brett, praying to God he didn't open his eyes and see me, make me responsible for something I was so afraid of... him. I was afraid of him and even as it comes to my mind now, I realize, I was afraid of feeling anything in those moments because I knew he was dying. Everybody leaves. It is only a matter of time.
on the floor at the great divide
with my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
i am crying in the bathroom
He woke up about twenty minutes later and mumbled some inaudible phrase. With great effort, he tried to take his feet out from under the sheets and climb out of bed. My mom held him down, tried to explain that he couldn't get up, couldn't disconnect himself from that damned air mask he hated so much, the irritating thing that was cutting into the bridge of his noise, averting tears from their natural course. He was crying. He wanted so badly to get up and leave. Funny, so did I. I couldn't breathe in that room, filled with beeps and pumps and lines of hypnotic lights falling and rising.
We were a sight, the three of us. Uncle Brett fighting the nurse, trying to get out of bed. Mom, now crying, speaking softly in explanations and pleading with my uncle to relax, stay in bed. And me, pressed so far into the corner, terrified of my own helplessness, slipping silently, unnoticed, into panic.
In the hall, in whispered conversations, my grandma gives him a week.
In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window
In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing
I am not afraid of death. There was a time when I was once, but now, I know better. Still, the first time I saw a dead body was at the viewing of my own uncle's funeral. My aunt is beside herself, crying so hard the coffin shakes as she hugs her husband's still body. I walk slowly to the front of the room and stand cautiously beside him. His lips are poised in an almost-smile, which makes me smile, thinking he is in on some joke none of us know. This is not my Uncle Brett, but his personality lingers in his last facial expression. Even in the stuffy funeral parlor, through tears that come unexpectedly, I am at peace.
Oh the glory that the Lord has made
And the complications when I see His face
In the morning in the window
Oh the glory when He took our place
But He took my shoulders and He shook my face
And He takes and He takes and He takes