I spent a lot of time in the ICU waiting area in the week leading up to his death. His sisters kept me company during the day, but I was alone at night.
I tried to read or watch tv in the waiting room but neither stuck. I put puzzles together and drank coffee and ate plain donuts. Sometimes I would drive around for a bit and stop and stare up at the stars. Sometimes I would talk to the few friends I had left, who understood that life isn’t always about rainbows and butterflies.
I wandered into his room every so often to sit and watch him breathe in and out. I had one conversation with him before he slipped into a coma, a full week before he died. I never got to hear his voice again.
