{Blackjack}
I kiss her forehead...
"Goodnight, Babygirl..."
I hate hospitals.
Grammy Alice was in a hospital before she died. I was 5 years old. Mom used to take me to see her.
Grammy Alice was actually my mom's gandmother. When mom got herself in tha 'family way' with me, being unwed at the age of 16, and from a very well to do, respectable, rich family, her folks kicked her out. 16 years old, pregnant, alone and never worked a day in her life. They cut her off, totoally, and, by extension, they cut me off too.
Except Gammy Alice, who loved my mother more than anything in the world, and, by extension, she loved me too.
Grammy saved us, she slipped mom money to help us get by, get medicine for me when I was sick, food when we were hungry.
Mom and I loved Grammy Alice, our lifeline, our savior.
I remember how much I loved her. And I remember watching her whither away in her hospital room. Mom would tell me when I was older that she never would have taken me to see her like that, not when I was a kid, if she had the choice. She couldn't get anyone to watch me, though, so she had to take me to see her. It was rough, for a 5 year old to have to see a loved one like that.
My first memories are of hospitals.
It's frustrating.
She's hurt, and all I can really do is sit here next to her, hold her hand. Shot, beaten, burned by chemicals, and forced an injection of heroin. All I have to do is sit here with her.
I couldn't even really rescue her. I was just there...a dollar short and a day late as the cops finish shooting the warehouse up and nearly killing everyone in the place.
No one left to kill, or hurt, or take this out on.
She's asleep right now. The doctor gave her a sedative. Even with all the wires, all the tubes, the IV's and the bruises, burns, and gunshot wounds, even with all of that, she looks like an angel sleeping there.
I haven't slept since the ambulance dropped us off. Sitting in the waiting room of the ER, and then here in her room when she was given one, the entire time.
I smell like dirt and sweat and acetone and dried blood, my clothes are covered in her blood. I need to shower and change.
I feel helpess, and I hate that.
She stirs, it's Thursday afternoon. I put on a smile and a brave face.
She needs me to.
"Mornin', sexy..."
"Goodnight, Babygirl..."
I hate hospitals.
Grammy Alice was in a hospital before she died. I was 5 years old. Mom used to take me to see her.
Grammy Alice was actually my mom's gandmother. When mom got herself in tha 'family way' with me, being unwed at the age of 16, and from a very well to do, respectable, rich family, her folks kicked her out. 16 years old, pregnant, alone and never worked a day in her life. They cut her off, totoally, and, by extension, they cut me off too.
Except Gammy Alice, who loved my mother more than anything in the world, and, by extension, she loved me too.
Grammy saved us, she slipped mom money to help us get by, get medicine for me when I was sick, food when we were hungry.
Mom and I loved Grammy Alice, our lifeline, our savior.
I remember how much I loved her. And I remember watching her whither away in her hospital room. Mom would tell me when I was older that she never would have taken me to see her like that, not when I was a kid, if she had the choice. She couldn't get anyone to watch me, though, so she had to take me to see her. It was rough, for a 5 year old to have to see a loved one like that.
My first memories are of hospitals.
It's frustrating.
She's hurt, and all I can really do is sit here next to her, hold her hand. Shot, beaten, burned by chemicals, and forced an injection of heroin. All I have to do is sit here with her.
I couldn't even really rescue her. I was just there...a dollar short and a day late as the cops finish shooting the warehouse up and nearly killing everyone in the place.
No one left to kill, or hurt, or take this out on.
She's asleep right now. The doctor gave her a sedative. Even with all the wires, all the tubes, the IV's and the bruises, burns, and gunshot wounds, even with all of that, she looks like an angel sleeping there.
I haven't slept since the ambulance dropped us off. Sitting in the waiting room of the ER, and then here in her room when she was given one, the entire time.
I smell like dirt and sweat and acetone and dried blood, my clothes are covered in her blood. I need to shower and change.
I feel helpess, and I hate that.
She stirs, it's Thursday afternoon. I put on a smile and a brave face.
She needs me to.
"Mornin', sexy..."