By Sarah Cate Anstey, Sep 16 2018 06:13AM
They come putting their arms around me, their advice hits me straight between the eyes and maybe they are right after all. Because they are right. Logically. Even if/when/if she recovers she won’t ever be the same again. I know this. Rationally. They tell me I may have to walk away from this, from her. How easy. Give her up give up on me. How simple. The sensible thing. Yes put one foot in front of the other and walk. Shut the door, shut out light, shut down shut her down. Smother her starve her of oxygen drown her it’s the kindest cruelty cruel kindness to her to me to her to… Still I persist holding her hand squeezing her fingers stroking her forehead massaging in the hope she can feel talking to her hoping she can hear somewhere somehow someone can hear that I am getting through, through to the dense dark silence. Every so often I kid myself in the flicker of her eyelids that there is action there is life there is hope there is there is there
They want to me to leave this my safe space my comforting cell they come to unlock it time and again give me a reprieve a way out a tunnel ready dug all I have to do it crawl because I won’t leave with my head held high dignified not in their way it would be their way not mine. I will have to wait until the last breath until the last warmth. The flat line the beeping flat line. It will be their final vindication that void devoid of noise. There will be no resuscitation they’ll tear me away with told you so silence.
They won’t hear the victory of inner peace where the knowing is. The knowing she knows I didn’t leave knowing that it wasn’t a waste knowing she’ll keep faith know that I will recognise her metamorphosis knowing I did what had to be done holding out and holding it in knowing in what past I lost I gained for the future
I will stay with her until she is ready because she will stay with me when I am ready. She will have the strength to stay when there is another and now there can be another. Isn’t that what she’s about what it’s about until the end the sweetly bitter bitterly sweet end
© Copyright Sarah Catherine Anstey 2018