A Long Pause... And A Bitersweet Good-bye

It's been so long since I've posted. The past few months have been a blur. Francis, affectionately known as "Emma" when she was my patient, has passed. Nothing could convince her to stay on her medication and fight. Bobby. My heart is broken for him. He's been through so much, and watching his mother die has taken it's toll.

The night before Francis died, I asked him to stay with me. He hadn't been sleeping, eating-- nothing. He was burning the candle at both ends, and the wick was quickly disintegrating. I didn't expect anything from him. I didn't want to take advantage of him. I know he's in a vulnerable state. All that I wanted, was for him to be able to lay in the arms of someone who loves him. Someone who understand his pain. His grief. His confusion. As he lay in my arms, I felt his breath become shallow against my chest. I knew, for the first time in weeks, if not months, he was sleeping peacefully. For all of the grief and heartache we were feeling, we both slept, and well, for the first time in a long time.

The next morning, we went to the hospital together. I knew that would be the last visit we made. When I saw her face, I knew she wasn't going to be here long. On her deathbed, she confessed that she was never sure who Bobby's real father was. My heart sank. Seeing the look in his dark eyes, pierced my heart. How. Why? Why now? As much as I truly love Bobby, this is one time, that I truly believe ignorance would've been bliss. Had he not known, he would've been fine. There would never have been a question, a shred of doubt- nothing. Now there is. He's pulling away from everyone.

It doesn't matter to me if his father is a serial killer, or an alcoholic with a compulsive gambling problem. We're all one step away insanity. We're all that close to evil. It's the choices we make that define us, not our genetics. I can hope that once Bobby takes the time to re-evaluate everything, he'll realize this.

As for me, I'm stalling. I'm writing, because I know when I stop, I have to go. I made a promise to Francis. In her younger days, she was a beautiful woman. She took pride in having her hair styled, make-up applied, and nails painted. I promised her that she would look just as beautiful in death, as in life. I promised her, that her boys last memory of her would be better than what they saw the last few days in her life. I have to go to the funeral home. I'm the only one who knows how she wants her hair styled. I'm the only one who knows that she hates when you can tell she's wearing blush. I'm the only one who knows that that Paris Pink is the only color she'll wear on her nails now. I still can't believe she's gone.

When I go prepare her, it's final. I know it. I know that the next time I'll see her, will be for the Rite of Burial. It's important for me to make sure I carry out her final wishes. It's important for me to stay strong, for her, for Bobby. I know she's at peace. I know where she is. I know she's looking down at us. I know she's wondering where I am.

I need to go. Wish me luck. I'm going to need it to stay strong through this.