Saturday, November 28, 2020
Waiting for Death [28/11/20]
“Days and weeks, not months” she said.
You have been going downhill since the Season of Hope
plunged the nation into its
First Lockdown. Perhaps you felt it was hard to go on, like
the rest of us.
Blood tests in High Summer had us belief you’d die, soon,
from lymphoma. It was the
First time I buried and grieved you.
Which of your nine lives did you use up to reach this Season
of Decay;
Making me cry rivers at the thought of your frail body buried in the cold and dark?
Your frame so painfully thin now. You eat little and drink a
lot. I patiently clean the carpet,
Wash the blankets and clothes after one of your little ‘mishaps’.
I admit it: sometimes I wished it was all over. But, my dear
sweetheart, I shall
Miss you so very much.
It’s been nearly three weeks now since you came home to die.
It’s another Friday afternoon
And we look at each other and declare “She’s not going to
die this week!”
It’s a torment I wouldn’t miss for the world.