I write this today with a very heavy heart as I see my father ebbing away...
Time has stilled... the coldness of the floor, the stench of disinfectant, the gnarly fingers sporting perfectly manicured nails, the immaculately groomed facial hair, the rosy marks of the mask - a lease of life... the strange dance of waxing-waning numbers on the display, his grip on my hand as paroxysms pass by...
I am not sure when the storm starts or ends - with the portent, with the hope-despair rollercoaster, with the ultimate acceptance? I don't know...
What I do know is that today is not the day to indulge my thoughts; there will be time enough to reflect when it's all done and dusted.
Today I need to get the job done - to hold his hand and bring him home.