Sunday, May 31, 2009


Each day now blends the haze of the nightmare.
More then 100 hours have passed since the accident and with each walk into the hospital and each departure it becomes more of me.

With each moment that tries to suck you into itself, into the walls of the reality that my brother is laying there in ICU fighting for his life. We're not able to measure his progress by minutes, it doesn't work that way, it's by moments.

By moments.

Then when I leave the hospital, and walk into the dim light garage that holds all the cars for those that worry, the sun tries to find it's way through the cement cracks. As I drive out of the hospital's parking garage and head out of the reality of illness and grieving, I see the grass is really green. The robin's are hopping along and I realize how blended everything has become.

Now, the reality of it doesn't just stay with me within the walls of the hospital. Within the beeps of the many different machines. Within the scares of an alarm or a "code blue ICU," it follows me like a shadow. It mixes in with the world outside.

It's becoming real.

Yet, today I am going to attend my Aunt's wedding. My mom has asked that we still go. That we still are there for our own families, that we need to be there for our little ones. They need to be with their son as it is their job to take care of him. He isn't married, he doesn't have little ones. It's up to my parents to take care of Jimmy, to make the right decisions to make him safe and comfortable. We, his siblings, have our families and it's just so hard to balance it all.

I don't want to be around my kids. I want to be around my brother. I don't want to be around my brother. I want to be around the sun where I forget what it looks like in there. I don't want to be around tears, I want to play tag with my children in the front yard. I don't want to sob into my husbands chest, to hear his tears along with mine. I want to be holding him tightly looking up into his eyes, saying our vows when everything was alright. I don't want to merge. But I have to. It's arriving. I'm not ready. But I am. But I'm not.

Have you ever merged from a really bad intersection (how's the irony there?)? It's so difficult because you were so comfortable on the old road. Why do we need to merge with the fast paced traffic of this lane? Why can't they all have medians, one lane by one lane, nothing is shared?

Because it's not reality. And for us, for so many people out there, that I have never truly been able to understand what they are going through, I now know. I can know empathize because reality has arrived at my doorstep. It arrived without warning, popping the bubble that my family has remained in.
The merge has started to become.

I'm not happy with it.
Because the merge is still with the dreadful shadow at my back just holding it's breath waiting to pounce.

I pray that none of you ever have to have this type of reality.

I pray that my nightmares will stop and I'll start having good dreams of things that my brother and I have done in the past.

He is still with us. He is a tiger. He is a fighter. We don't know.
One moment it's very bad. Then the next moment a movement.

Which is why I will continue to say that this journey, Jimmy's journey is not being measured in minutes, but by moments.



Kathy said...

Blessings, Elizabeth.

Diane Vogel Ferri said...

Love and prayer sent your way - Elizabeth . I have brother Jimmy too.

Linda S. Socha said...

This is so difficult. My sister died of an incurable lukemia that is now 95% curable. This place is difficult for everyone and you clearly know that.

I hope and pray for the total best recovery for your Jimmy

raino said...

omg, i am so sorry for your brother and you and your family. be strong for him and he will feel it. god bless.

austere said...

play tag anyway.
have that ok calm face anyway.

yep. tough tough tough.
took me years to not think all the BS was happening in my life only.

just don't think too much.pls.

a hug, crusty.

Cheryl said...

Thinking about you always...