I'm sitting in the dark. The hospital floor is quiet. I've been hoping for some quiet since I got here and now it scares me. I'm sitting in the dark my feet upon my daddy's bed. I lifted his right hand and tucked my foot under it thinking it would reassure me but it is just heavy and not what I wanted. I wanted my daddy's comforting hand, rubbing my foot. My mommy is on the other side of the bed sleeping on a cot with her hand in his. My brother is probably having a bad night thinking about us and wishing he could get to us faster than he could. I miss my husband and baby. This is the first night I am away from her. I feel like I'm missing my heart. My daddy's breathing is quick. He held his breath once and though I wish this to be over I don't want him to go, but I don't want him or us to be in limbo. I can't decide if this is selfish of me or compassionate. Anyone else I would tell them that it would be completely normal to feel that way, but of course I wouldn't tell them that because it sounds like such shit when you are going through something as terrible as this. When I wake up from sleep that will take me by surprise I don't know what I want. Dad to have passed away while I slept peacefully by his side or for him to still be alive.
I've had several crazy dreams in the past hour. All were about getting dad back on his bed because he's sick. He kept swinging his leg out of bed like he was getting up and if we did not notice he would be standing at the other side of the room. This was mixed in with other nonsense. Dreaming of a nice bed, eating in a cafeteria all I'm sure was because I was hungry and uncomfortable. Before I fell asleep mom was lying in bed with dad and offered me her cot. Then she moved to the chair and let me sleep on the cot. I dreamt that dad was on his bed and looked down lovingly at his wife sleeping in his arms. He looked up at me, then back at her nodded his head to her as if to say it's time to go. Mom said my name and I woke up. I knew he was gone.