I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Difficult Visits


Some visits are difficult.

They are difficult when they might be the last. Even more difficult when we drive to see a friend knowing time is running out for them.
There is wishing he’ll be sleep so you don’t have to make conversation.  There is thinking of what to say when he is awake.  There are the unnecessary trips to the bathroom to avoid being in the room. There is avoiding a conversation with a man who used to fascinate me with his knowledge and his intelligence. 
There are the trips to the kitchen to say hello to the rest of the family.  There is the light and superficial conversation about the weather, and the time of the day with a man who captivated my attention with his dissertations.
There is guilt for not staying longer. There is regret for not visiting more often. There is wanting to forget this is happening.
There are memories of a healthy man playing with my children. There is compassion and there is sadness.
There is fear of knowing one day he won’t be there to visit.
So you visit. And you make light conversation, and you go to the bathroom, and you leave, and then you cry.