Mom's in the ER; to be admitted later this evening.
The anguish in my Dad's face as the emergency medical team strapped Mom to a gurney and prepared to wheel her into the waiting ambulance hit me like a spear through my heart. I broke down. I cried for him, not for my Mom.
After she left I spent a few precious moments with Dad, kneeling at his side, my arms around him.
"I'm so sorry, Daddy; it's going to be alright."
"I'm so sorry, sweet Kitty, so sorry for you."
He was comforting me as much as I tried to offer comfort to him.
I promised to call him with the news from the ER. We don't really know what's going on but there are clues and leads to follow. Will there be a fix?
I have an ominous feeling. I think my Mom is close to dying. Do we ever know? The doctor in me says NO but the daughter in me says YES. This is it; the end is coming. Soon.
I'm sad to lose her. But, my sadness is acute, painful, and raw edged for the man who'll be left behind. He breaks my heart, his vulnerable face, the quivering chin, and the tears that flow from a place deep in his being. I would do anything to fix this un-fixable state. But, it's not to be.