He is gone

He is dying

I am not sure he knows he is dying

She denies he is dying

But I am a hospice nurse

And I know: he is dying


He cannot move much

He has pain when he moves and she pulls hard on his legs

She acts shocked he has pain

He is dying

And hospice is coming

to get him started.


He is dying and it won’t be long

He will be gone in 2 weeks time

Right now he can smile, eat, and laugh

He has dementia

So maybe he really does not know

That he is dying

She should know

He is dying, but she makes plans for who will take care of him

3 months from now

It is not needed

He is dying now


He is dying and she leaves the room

He is dying and yet he talks about money

With a glint in his eyes

and I remember

He has dementia, but somethings never change

I tell him I will worry about my own money

You worry about yours



He is dying

And I tell him about his grandchildren; he says they are lucky to have me

That may be the nicest thing he ever said to me

And I pass some light to him

I attune him to Reiki

He loves it and he wants her to have the light too

I tell him someday, maybe someday


He is dying and I am exhausted

They invite me to stay or come back for dinner

I have to leave

I barely got here, flying and driving for hours, I stay just 36 hours

I stay in a hotel room most of the time

I skype my girls and I cry and I eat


He is dying indeed and in two weeks he is gone

She emails and asks me to call her

And I know he is gone

I am relieved

I am sad

I wonder why

I never felt loved by him

AM I really unloveable; or is that the human condition?


He is dead but somehow he lives on

In my projections

In my grief

In my pain

And in my love


He lives on in my joy of having experienced


In my love of spicy food and ice cream

In my thin body

My poor eyesight

My reactions to life.


He is gone, and I am grateful.



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