Stroke

  I wrote this piece several years ago – I’m not sure when. My mother was dying from a stroke, my brothers and sister were there with me, it appears, though to be honest, I can’t remember the scene – though it’s unlikely that I made it all up. I do remember seeing an episode on a television series where one of the characters – I think it was a nurse – was having a stroke, and we heard her voice saying what she was thinking.

 

Stroke

 

What happened to me? What is happening? The ring of faces, this unfamiliar room . . .. Voices. Can’t make out the words. A few words – “Jackie” – that’s me. That was me. And “love.” Yes.

 

Candy trying not to cry. Her reassuring voice – the one she uses with her kids. Reassuring me – of what? That I’m going to be OK? That she’s going to be OK? No, only that she’s here. Which means I’m still here.

 

That voice is Bobby. That face his – seriously and manly, brimming with love. But I can’t answer. These ugly sounds grunting from me. They pretend they understand. Bob here, arranging all this. He hates hospitals – no need to explain that to me. He’s kissing my forehead, stroking my hair. What must it look like? Glad there are no mirrors here.

 

Ken’s sweet face so close to mine. Calling me Sweetie Pie. He’s the real sweetie. Those intense Norwegian eyes. Ken is with me, darling Ken. I’m not alone. Except I can’t reach out with my voice. To tell them how I feel. How do I feel? Afraid. Of leaving these dear people. My family. And the missing ones. John. Steve. Kim – her father with cancer. Afraid. But I need to rest. Let me struggle through this. I know I can. Then rest. Struggle through – then rest. You all seem so far away.

 

Like David. Standing back. Where is he? Meeting my gaze. Come closer. Can’t read you behind that beard, those glasses. Your voice a comfort. Your words unclear. You take my hand. At last. Kiss my forehead. Love me.

 

What happened to me? Is happening. Will . . ..