They say when you are dying, or someone is dying, that your life (or theirs, I suppose) flashes through your mind. That you have all sorts of thoughts. On what you did, should have done, could have done, would have done. Maybe that’s true. I don’t remember. All I know that is today -there are no thoughts running through my head. No memories. No thoughts. There is absolutely nothing. My mind is completely empty. So empty, in fact, that when I attempted to talk to someone today it came out in a mad jumble of nonsense that made NO sense, and made me sound like I was irritated with the person I was talking to.
I have mentally begged to stop every step of the way. I didn’t want to get out of bed that Saturday morning. I didn’t want to get in the car. Didn’t want to get on the airplane. I didn’t want to walk the halls of the hospital. Every door in that seemingly endless row of doors that we passed, I gained a small fraction of hope that maybe, just maybe we would keep walking. And we wouldn’t have to stop. We would just keep going. But just as I started to entertain these thoughts, the nurse stopped, opened the door -and led us in. Shattering whatever hope remained. No matter how foolish it may have been.
As if stopping, would somehow bring this all to a screeching halt.
It’s ironic, much of it. Ironic that six years ago I was writing that it “Was Over.” Ironic that I honestly believed that at the time, it was over. The we had finally found that middle ground where things would probably suck at times -but we would make it out. Ironic because out of all of them, I really believed he was the one that would be ok. Ironic, I supposed -that I let myself believe these things. Blind hope, I suppose.
The one question that has been haunting me I suppose, is wondering what was missed. Obviously I suppose it was just being blinded by the false hope that reality was ok -when really, it wasn’t. Choosing to believe that things were ok -when they weren’t. Holding onto hope that this life really had something worth holding onto -when really, the only thing there is to hold onto is the reality that things will never be ok.
It’s ironic, I suppose -that the one place I have fought so hard to stay away from, is the one place that seems the most inviting and the most comforting. Ironic that I tried. That I thought this would work. That it would be better.
I guess the only thing that really rings true, is this time, perhaps -it really is over.