I saw you in the nursing home again today. They keep telling me it's a rehabilitation facility but I don't see any drunks around. You were sleeping when we walked through the door.
Your other son, your granddaughter and I.
It is so very painful to see you like this. I remember you when I was a kid, so strong, so vital, such a royal pain in my ass. I remember you chasing me down the block at a full sprint and catching me to boot. I remember you hitting me so hard that I had welts on my back for a month. I remember you constantly doing this and cleaning that and driving here and working there and now all you do is lay in bed and watch Fox News. (Which isn't healthy for anyone)
Your liver has failed. Which causes your ammonia levels to rise. Which turns you into a shell of a person. When your ammonia goes high you can't talk, you can't reason, you can't do much of anything but shake your head yes and no. They can keep the levels down with whatever the hell they do for you, but it's still a matter of time. New liver or prepare to evacuate soul.
You tell us that you're going to try. You tell us that you're going to give it your best shot. For chrissakes your granddaughter hasn't even turned 1 yet, and I can see it in your eyes and I can hear it in your voice...you'd rather this all be over.
I'm going to be 37 here in a couple of weeks, and I don't want to be an orphan. There's too much that I still need you for. Check that, there's so much that I still want you here for.
The baby is going to need her grammy to spoil her. There's only so much spoiling a kid can get from one set of grandparents. Ya need two to get the full effect.
I've never been in a world that didn't have you in it, and it's pretty well impossible for me to wrap my pea brain around the thought of you being gone. But it's coming. It's definitely on it's way. I'm pretty sure I saw the grim reaper reading a magazine in the waiting room, but in that place there's no way to tell who he's there for.
All I want is for you to be happy and at peace. I don't want you to have to struggle and hurt. I just want you to be at peace. Whether that's alive or dead, I want you to have peace.
There's never been much of that in our family. Some goofy shit is always going on that disrupts any semblance of calm we ever had, but that's between you and I.
When the time comes, I want to be able to put the baby on the bed with you for a few moments so you can tell her how much you love her and feel the soft touch of her hand and if we're real lucky she'll say "grammy" prior to check out time.
I want my wife to sit down next to you, so you can thank her again for being there since I'm going to need her that much more after you're gone. I want to see her kiss you and tell you she loves you. And when you thank her for the baby and tell her what a good job she did, I hope she tells you not to worry about it, she'd be happy to do it again.
I want to be able to see my brother tell you that he loves you and is going to miss you, and that he promises he'll try to do better after you're gone and make you proud of him. Then he can kiss your forehead and say goodbye.
Then I want to sit down beside the bed and hold your hand, I want to be able to tell you not to worry I'll take good care of the family and I'll make sure the baby goes to college and that she makes it to church every week (actually the wife will do that, but it'll get done.) I'll tell you I love you and I'm gonna miss you too. Ya know all the usual stuff.
Then I hope I can just hold your hand, I hope you fall asleep, and I hope sometime after that you squeeze my hand, smile just a little and then go.
No pain. No heartache (for you anyway) and no struggle.
Just calm and peace...that is all I wish.
I love you Mom...