Losing Bua

I opened the door of ICU and scanned through the big hall but I couldn't find her. Suddenly, I realized it was her on the bed next to me wearing a green gown (so unusual of her) and an oxygen mask and couple of machines and needles going through her. She looked half of her size. I stopped breathing for a moment. I couldn't believe this is happening. I went inside, touched her hand and she moved and looked at me. I knew she wanted to say something. As if she's telling me to rescue her from here or may be she's welcoming me as she always would when she sees me. But she was definitely saying something from her eyes. 

Every day after that I would wait outside for visiting hours and try to get as much time as I could in those 2 times I could visit. Did I thank her enough? Did I spend enough time with her? Do I even know her enough? Suddenly, all the time spent with her seemed less. I could see her life slipping.

There were days when I would find myself alone with her and say everything I wanted to say. I thanked her for all the things she did for me. I remember she heard me and had tears in her eyes. She probably wanted to hug me at that time.

Every single day was about going to hospital and waiting for those little moments with her. It became a new normal. There was pleasure and comfort in this pain, but also I was craving normalcy. As her health was deterioriating, I found myself praying for her to go peacefully. I never thought I would do so.

Letting go of people who really were important in your life isn't easy. But when you know they have died and it's just the pain lingering, you start praying for them to depart. You just want peace.