The Watch

I hate going to the hospital.

I hate it because I know that you’re there. 

Not because I don’t wanna see you, but because I think if I can just wait a little longer, I can postpone the inevitable. 

Watching. Waiting. Listening. Constantly observing your chest rise and fall, rise and fall. Feeling the bump, bump, bump of your pulse. Hearing beeps and whirs. A gasp here, a cough there. 

I doze, but startle awake because I’m not sure if I have missed it. 

The peaceful death should be a glorious thing. Like being able to see angels or Jesus himself come and take you home, not this quiet, sad, tear-filled watching and waiting. 

I’m not sure what to do with myself while this watch is happening. I pray. I thank God for the life that you lead. And with every gasp, my heart sinks a little more until it’s way too quiet.