“I mean, they say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time.”
Strange how It seems like only yesterday,
That I would run and laugh in sweet innocence play.
But now it seems I have come to assume…
A place alone in the waiting room.
I’ve raised my children, and lost one too,
Many happy years, yet some days of blue.
I’ve planted seeds to watch them bloom,
But today I sit, alone in the waiting room.
When I was a child and so naïve,
It never occurred to me that I’d have to leave
My mother’s arms, the scent of her perfume,
Memories painfully linger in the waiting room.
I am no longer young, but not quite old,
Though a sickness came and left me cold.
My skin I now wear as some strange costume,
While I pray today, in the waiting room.
Today my blessed grandchildren came for a visit,
Bringing their lovely presence to my elderly prison.
As the end of visiting hours began to loom,
I desperately feared being left alone in the waiting room.
Tomorrow I will be unable to stand or walk,
Or raise my head or manage to talk.
Yet tomorrow I will embrace my groom,
And no longer will I be… alone in the waiting room.
“Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson