cancer steals another of my little 3rd floor sprites.
2003-01-05, 9:07 p.m.
He's in his daddy's arms now... they haven't allowed him to see his daddy in 3 years. He's 9 now, 6 then... His breathing is ragged, and the EKG is showing third heart sounds that shouldn't be there... he's been seizing for almost 23 hours straight... his tongue bitten through long ago.
He's going now.
I want to say goodbye.
I think my tongue must be bitten through also.
Because no words are coming...
I'm rubbing his little bald head over and over and over...
Fingers dancing over the scar... the dazzling sunburst scar on the back of his head... he fell off his daddy's shoulders when he was 4...
I want to put him up there again...
Let his daddy dance him around the room... small boy gripping his hair and squealing in delight.
But it's not going to happen... He's going now...
His vitals are dropping.
His mother stroking his chest... "it's ok baby. mommy says it's ok now. goodbye my beautiful baby boy. you can go now. mommy loves you."
"daddy loves you"
and i love you...
but my tongue must be bitten through...
because i can't say goodbye.
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