"eternal life is now on my trail. got my red glitter coffin, man, just need one last nail" --jeff buckley

he was just a middle-aged man. younger than my father. less than twice my age. he looked like he was 80, at least. a gray, out of control beard down to his chest might've been the least of what aged him. he had a thin frame and he was wrinkly with a dry mouth and big eyes that stared straight at me and then away at nothing. they were gray, or blue, or green...i can't remember, which is weird because i always remember eyes. his wife sat there by his bed, looking lost and alone. i'm sure she was younger than me and i wondered why she was with this man who was old enough to be her father and looked old enough to be her grandfather and who was dying because of his own vices.

it was weird to talk to her because she made me wonder if she really even knew him at all. she answered questions with shoulder shrugs and confused looks and it seemed to me that maybe she was with him, not to be his partner in life, but because he was her torn and tattered security blanket.

the man was yellow. literally. and he was dying. i was told he would die by my attending. i was told he would die by his internist. i knew he was going to die. and still, while i was working on another patient on the same floor today, and i looked in the direction of his room and saw that it was empty i thought that he must've been transferred to critical care. when i asked the clerk where he was she looked at me confused and then told me he passed away as she pointed to a sticky note on her computer that confirmed his death.

does death ever belong on a sticky note?

i've seen plenty of patients die during the last few years and i have become (or always have been) like one of the many, many other desensitized drones that works in a hospital. his death was no more significant, but i did for a moment think about his wife. a morbid piece of me wondered what she looked like when heard of her husband's death. her security blanket snatched from her, would she be in withdrawal and longing for that comfort or would she feel free of a man who was drowning in his own sickness?

i'll never know the answer and by tomorrow i'll forget all about her...and him...but figured the occasional post to myself will remind me that for a brief moment, though i might not have felt normal remorse or grief...at least i felt something. and because we all live for moments that make us feel more human...well...i guess that's my moment for today.

gnite.