Monday, September 19, 2011

The Visitor

Dead a year ago last Monday
didn't cry to the following
Sunday.
I thought about one day,
hours from her death
when I ran away.
The doctor said she took a fall.
She was shrieking-my mother
who endured pain for me and with me.
I could hear her moans before I stood
in front of her hospital door.
I moved only my head to see her
 as they circled me to show their
own sympathetic, worried faces as
they told me she had fallen in the night.
I turned and scurried, stumbling,
frantic to push out the double doors.
I regret not running in to her room.
Perhaps, I think, if I placed my hand
 on her forehead, or held her hand
if she was cognizent, it could have
lessened her fear or made her pain
bearable; just knowing she wasn't alone.
Instead I bolted in the opposite direction.
Crying, making phone calls to help lessen my pain.
Now, forevermore I will remember
my self-focused action that day
that visit me today.

2 comments:

  1. Pam,
    Your words speak to me. I know these feelings well.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Many of us have guilt about a loved one dying and what we "should" have done. I was told by someone with a special "vision" that most people choose to go when you are not there so you don't have to experience the passing. Maybe there is truth to that. It helped me accept my father's for sure! Hugs.

    ReplyDelete

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