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Personal Note:

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Poem

Every day
I walked by the dead cockroach on
The second floor’s third stair.
I was out of breath by the sixth. 
On the eighth I’d stop, 
And wait until my heart slowed. 

I'd step out.
How was his night?
Emesis? Pain? 
Did he sleep? 

Evening would roll around. 
I'd walk by the clock stuck at 4:52.
The elevators were faster where time’d stopped. 
Go home. Eat. Sleep. 
Kiss my wife and steal some cuddles. 
Try to remember how to relax.

Every night is sleep without peace
Every morning, 
Get up without rest, 
And do it all again. 

Then we changed cities. 
I still get up tired. 
Still shower, alone. 
Now, I am always alone. 
Drive empty roads to a nearly full garage. 
My body moves because it must.

I gave up the stairs. 
Here I take the elevator. 
Time really did stop--
And all the elevators are fast.

Walk in gently so not to rouse him.
Set up. Start work. 
When he wakes, ask the same questions.
How was your night? 
Did you sleep? 
Was there pain? 

Work alone while he sleeps. 
 In the evening
I go home through an empty garage
And full streets. 
Then collapse exhausted. 
Sleep alone, and without rest. 

I've made every decision to avoid this empty life
Except the one most abhorrent.
I'm alone because I refuse to stop loving.
I ache in the solitude where my family isn't. 
To be with one who's sick
Or be with my wife and family who aren't. 

Yet always missing the other.

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