Prose, Our last Moments Together.

Always together as one. I was with you, not sure of what was to happen. Ready to help, not knowing how. Listening carefully to your needs. Watching. Blocking, bracing my mind, paying attention institutionally. We had not been to this point before in “this position”. There are not instructions. Just a limbo land of waiting and being together. You did not talk of it, nor did I, we talked around it. Making sure things were done, assurances. I loved you even more, more precious you became. We had gone to the bed to settle in. We talked, you did not feel right, harder to breathe, you said and went to the bathroom, came back, sat on the bed then wanted to return to the bathroom. I followed. We talked in short sentences, I don’t recall about what now__Only your skin had turned from a pink flush from when you were on the edge of the bed to a pale yellow in the bathrooms light___ Like bruised skin___ just before the bruise fades. I thought___If someone is going to die they don’t walk___his lungs are not getting air to his body. I thought of a battery. Not good! Not good! My mind shouted. You stood from where you sat on the flush, you stepped forward, your legs gave slowly out, and so you sat on the floor. You said, “I can’t get up by myself, I wondered how I would get you up, I did not think I could. You said, “I don’t have the strength.” I sat on the flush. I said, “I will call the ambulance. You need help.” We spoke, I don’t recall about what. I noticed you needed help and so I cleaned you___. I could not get your shorts back up. I sat down. I called “them” and unlocked the door and returned to you. I leaned you against me telling you I love you! And kissed the side of your face. Hugging your shoulder to my knee so we would touch. We waited together like this. I think “Where you die does not matter. What matters is I am here with him!” I would never let him be alone. I let myself hope a little while waiting. “Not yet! Please not yet!” Numbing myself, bracing myself. They came, they talked with you to learn where you were at. You did not respond well. I talked. They talked more, you sat, you looked up slightly up ward as if seeing someone, and then slumped over on your side. I knew you were dying. I think your parents came for you when you looked up just a little, they were there, and you were ok to go. Gentle guidance had me leave to make room for them to “work on you”. Appreciated, they went through their routine. I sat on the couch and talked to “our Jacobie.” She stayed with me on the phone, she talked to them___. The usual parade of people, strategically coming as needed. Time slowed___. They asked more questions__ comforted me and then you and they were gone. What do I do now? Now I am alone____. It’s been a year since you’ve been gone.

Pejj Nunes

10/7/2021