My peace

july 5, 2004

8:00 am - 2 methadone
8:00 am - 1 atavan
5:00 pm - 2 methadone
5:00 pm - 1 atavan


i took my peace bracelet and put it on Mom. i pulled the recliner next to her bed and reached through the guard rail to hold her hand. her breathing was shallow. then interrupted. then a gasp - a loud one. i woke. i knew she was gone. it didn't matter that i knew this was coming. my heart was not ready. just hours ago i asked God to take her and now i wanted her back.


There is no grief like the grief that does not speak. --Henry Wordsworth Longfellow

yesterday

july 4, 2004

7:30 pm - 2 methadone
4:30 pm - 2 methadone
4:30 pm - 1 atavan

it wasn't yesterday.
it was 5 years ago to this day.
i climbed on the roof - just like i did in high school.
i walked to the bayou. no one was on the streets. i could hear then see the fireworks over the bayou. i prayed. i walked back to the house. i fell on the grass in the front yard and begged God for peace - for me, for Dad, but mostly for Mom.

i watched her sleep. her breathing shallow. i watched her sleep.

i wish for a moment.

holding my breath

july 3, 2004



7:00 am - 1 atavan
7:30 am - 1 methadone
2:00 pm - 1atavan
2:00 pm - 1 methadone