SURREAL GOODBYE

 
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Surreal Goodbye

You lay there
struggling for breath.
The machine jerked your head
with each ration of precious oxygen.
Your hand was clammy cold
and there was only tension
as we, your brothers, watched.
The hospital routine carried on
oblivious to our personal drama.
The second visit and your head was stilled
the monitors beeping out
your fluttering heartbeat.
We looked at each other
full of the realization that
we had lost you.
The drive to one brother’s home,
and a birthday for the other.
The world flashed by as if
on anther errand
while our lives stood still.
I wanted to scream stop
and have the world experience our grief.
It seemed if I could make that happen
we wouldn’t feel so alone.
You didn’t die until the next morning
but we already had you dead.
The little rush you got from cigarettes
seemed so trivial and stupid at this time.
All our advice was bad
and
our good advice was fatal.

I’m sitting in a coffee shop
with tears streaming down my face.
A fire alarm is set off in the next building
and people spill into the street.
I write in my now tear stained journal
as people mill around and fireman
unroll hoses.
The traffic piles up and some bright spark
honks his impatience.

We said goodbye but you couldn’t hear.
We said we loved you but you were beyond our love.
We sat down to a birthday dinner
as you struggled to breathe.

Now I’ve told our story as people lit their cigarettes.
I looked at them and like the ancient mariner
I shouted the warning
and like the wedding guests they said,

“What has this to do with me?”
and
went on with their lives.

©Copyright May 15, 2003 by John-Ward Leighton

Author’s Note: This records the demise of my dearly loved sister, who died far too young, I feel those murdering bastards in the tobacco industry owe me and my family twenty years to life.

JWL: February 6, 2006