Touch and Go

Touch and Go 

The undulations are dizzying

As you follow a loved one’s body

Withersoever it listeth.

It can’t seem to make up its mind

As one day seems sorely bleak

And the next bounces back

With diehard doggedness,

The human spirit’s stubborn refusal

To give up the ghost.

 

One phone call is upbeat

With a lilt to it that floats some hope

Lifting the spirit like a gust of wind

Carrying a kite to new heights,

Others land like a gut punch

Knocking your wind out,

Leaving you wondering,

“Is this is it? Is this the end?”

 

I’ve sat at my dad’s side

Manning my station with honor,

Trying to reign in my own emotions

So as to not steal any attention

From the real man of the hour.

I’ve swallowed hard

Fighting back tears,

No one is ready to see their dad

This defenseless; this undignified.

No one.

 

But just as I’m making peace

With what seems to be both

Inevitable and imminent,

The death angel pauses,

Beckoned back to heaven,

Notified—as it were— 

Of a pesky false alarm.

 

Skin turns from grey to pink,

Eyes sunken it come forth again

As if touched by Jesus…

The blind sees.

The deaf hears.

The mute speaks.

The lame walks.

And we stagger like a drunkard,

“What is happening?  

Am is this normal?”

 

But sitting next to Pops,

Come weal or woe,

Touch and go,

I’m up for anything now.

Silence is perfectly fine.

“Do you want to talk? Let’s do it.”

“Feel like you want to close your eyes

And fade in and out of consciousness?

Whatever you need, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here. Don’t mind me.”

 

I’m just here for the ride,

As long as it takes.