The last lap was six years ago. Tonight I traveled the same road and made my own lap alone across an ice-covered field,under a blanket of bright white clouds that shifted to blue on blue, heartache on heartache.
Trees Through Tears (c) SMG
It was an unspeakably awful thing to say.
After an exhausting and unnecessary verbal battle, the hospice’s medical director–who had been openly skeptical of my physician husband’s emphatic wish not to die in a hospital (at least when I was the one to express that wish as his medical proxy)–asked whether my husband wanted to drive with me from the hospital or wanted an ambulance to take him.
“Held on to hope like a noose, like a rope
God and medicine take no mercy on him
Poisoned his blood, and burned down his throat
Enough is enough, he’s a long way from home . . . .
Laid up in bed, you were laid up in bed
Holding the pain like you’re holding your breath
I prayed you could sleep, sleep like a stone
You’re right next to me
But you’re a long way from…
View original post 1,575 more words