My friend is hovering Between heaven And earth, A sacred spot beyond Defining, But one that stretches Our hearts To the ripping point. I was there with Jack Looking for the final Signs: Pooling blood under His skin, The death/life rattle Gurgling from his Throat. I pulled up the covers to Check whether his feet And toes were blue. I gently examined his Hands searching For the death color There too. I stroked them, Held them, Kissed them. I watched his breathing Looking for the regression There; A breath, Then, not a breath. A breath, Then, not a breath. I joined my husband In his struggle, Coaching him along In the final moments Of his race. Praying, Aching, Whispering in his ear To just let go. "Jesus is waiting," I said. "He's with us both. I'll be okay." The tell tale signs never Really came. Without warning, His breathing simply Stopped, And he was home. I went home, too, Alone. |