robert couch

this morning i shaved
because i had barely slept the night before
the outline of my chin in the mirror
stood as a fresh excuse for my eyes
which were still bloodshot
it was two and a half hours later
when my dad stopped breathing
a doctor in blue scrubs visited us
in the waiting room
leaned down to make eye contact
used the smallest possible words
he still had a pulse
there was hope
they weren't sure
it was hours later my mom wondered
why the room in the icu was so big
and then it was obvious
so he wouldn't be alone
the bottom fell out of his life
and up rises that sea of hope and pain
that takes your breath away
but his body was still there
we sat next to it
for an hour or more
my mom said it looks like he's still breathing
my brother and i said nothing
our best eulogy
i had this funny smile
to greet everyone before and after we were left alone
the dumbest smile i've ever had
for the doctors who'd been working
with my dad for years
i wanted to comfort them
and the nurses and orderlies too
to make their day better
and the token holy woman
who asked about my dad's *religious tradition*
which made us all laugh
the only laugh
then the dam broke
once my mom and brother left for the parking lot
in reflection i got the order wrong
he died before i shaved he died after i was talking hours later
before i made a scene at the hospital
walking out into the cafeteria
crumpling like a paper bag
in the corner by the entrance
i wish i could have that pain back
bathe in it
ride up on the wave
have some kind of control
it was 22 hours before or after
that i helped him onto a bed on the 5th floor
we were happy to get him out of the ER
it was before hope
we had optimism
he was under the best care
the attending entered the room
wasn't happy to see my dad
the bleak look on his face
like a noir PI on a case that just might break his heart
offering no simple answers
walking us through 3 years of cat scans
and then the chipper resident
hours before or after assuring us
that it was definitely not pneumonia and just the igg4
my dad was lucid but tired
making demands
telling me to go home
it seemed sensible to leave
to make plans for tomorrow