The other day, I was asked – paraphrasing here…’why didn’t you stay at the hospital when stuff was happening?’
My first response was, I could not, I had other responsibilities
– the dogs, the birds – someone had to take care of them. That has always been my
response. I would get there at 7 or 8 in the morning and stay ‘til 8 or 9 at
night most nights if not later.
When more gently asked of why I did not let someone help me
during that time, My honest hard reply though after taking a breath, was, I desperately needed the break. I needed
some ME time. I needed to be away for a little while. I needed the quiet that I
did not have anymore.
More quietly, to myself, I was slowly falling apart,
and that time alone gave me a little reprieve.
That may make me a bad person and that is okay. I am the
only one who has to live with that.
I needed a break.
Having those few hours of no responsibility was like having
the silence when the eye of a hurricane is over you. That time before shit starts twirling around
you again and you have no idea what things will look like in twenty minutes or
two hours or the next day even.
How else can I say it other than, it was my time to let go
of the breath I had been holding all day long while sitting there in the hospital
with Brandon.
So, I went home at night. I got a break for a short bit of
time to refresh and sleep and get myself prepared for going back the next day
or later that night to sit with Brandon and be his rock.
I just wish he had had that chance, too, to take a break.
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