hope
We sat in silence in Room 1220, the bustling of the nurses feet and the machines around us filled the space. beep, beep, beep. On other sides of the room as we awaited your final return. The hope from his mother filled the air, his life flashing before her eyes, and all she wanted for his future, her bright, shining boy. I wish I could have shared that with her, sitting in the chair by the window. I could not see him in that future. A mere shadow stood across from me at the altar. An empty figure sat with me at the dinner table, and next to me at the bar. A clouded presence was all I saw when I was teaching my children to cook our family meal. I knew he was gone, and I had 32 more minutes until I was proven right. Until then, we sat in silence.