A Few Last Words

It's been a bad week.  No, really.  It's been a very bad week.  What should have been a week's long stay to remove excess fluid has turned into almost 40 days in the hospital. 

The last week you've had the breathing tube in and it's been awful.  Everything keeps getting worse.  For the last two days we've tried waking you up from the sedation and the pain meds but you aren't really coming out of it.  Yesterday they turned the ventilator down to see if you could breathe on your own.  The quick, short breaths were not enough to convince them that you could breathe on your own.

While trying to get you to wake up enough to try it I talked loudly to you, called your name, shook your hand.  You were beyond drowsy.  In a final attempt to get your attention I said "Jason!  Want me to take my shirt off?"  You smiled a big, goofy smile with your eyes still closed.  Everyone in the room laughed.  You heard me.  I know you did.

That was it, you know.  That was the last time that you really acknowledged something I said in a meaningful way.  That wasn't romantic.  Not even a little bit.  Okay...maybe a little bit.  I mean, it was me and it was you and together we were.... well....we were us.  Before the emergency that had the ventilator placed, you had on a bi-pap mask and you mouthed "I love you."  I may just reference that as your last words to me instead of the response to my inappropriate joke but just between the two of us?  That was perfect.  So perfect.

Earlier on the day that you mouthed "I love you"  (Sunday, I think) you were pretty delirious and were saying all sorts of things.  In a moment of clarity we had this conversation:

J: We have kids together don't we?
Me: Yes. Do you remember their names?
J: Joey and Sophie. I love them so much. 
Me: I know you do. They love you too. 
J: I know. Joey is a man. I love him.
Me: He is all grown up. I'm proud of him too.
J: And Sophie. Sometimes I look in her eyes. Those eyes. She smiles at me and my world is a better place just seeing her. 

You said often that your one goal in life was to be a good dad and husband.  Even in your delirium, even in your pain, you were amazing.