Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Monday Night.

Monday night, three weeks after you arrived at the ER, you finally opened your eyes.
     One day after they decided to let you go, you looked at me.
Monday night, you moved your head and you responded to my voice.
     Your eyes welled up, but you couldn't talk, couldn't tell me what was wrong.
Monday night, I videotaped you and hoped, no, I knew this was the turning point.
     I begged you to stay with us; I promised to help you if you could just stay awake.
Monday night, I let myself believe that it wasn't over.
     I told myself this was what we had been waiting for.

Monday night, you said goodbye, but my hope blinded me and I couldn't see it.

Tuesday morning, you closed your eyes.


  1. Rachael, I'm so sorry for your loss. It must have been a very stressful period for you over the holidays. May your grandmother rest in peace.

  2. Thank you, Sandra.
    She helped raise us; we lived with her most of my life-all but grades 4-8 when we moved out of state, before and after that though we lived with her. She's the closest person I've ever lost :(

  3. Oh, Rachael, I came here to say happy birthday to your daughter - and thank you for my greetings. I am sorry to read of your loss. I'm glad you have good memories.

    1. Thank you, Barbara, for the birthday wishes and the condolences.