He lies in a hospital bed and sleeps most of his day away, while you watch over him with ever vigilant eyes. He is dying and there is nothing that you can do to stop it. You have traveled away from work, away from you life to return to your former life, the home and place where you grew up. He is back in his house and has some of his personality but he is clearly not who he was. He has pain medication and does not eat much, but you are there with your cousins, his wife; he is your responsibility. Is it you fault? You should have said this, done that when you were with him the last time… now all he can say are a few things that are more confused than coherent. You wish that you could leave, and just forget and wallow in your own misery, but you stay and remain strong for his wife… and visitors.
He wants to move out of his bed, and sleep in his own bedroom, not the living room. You have hired hospice to help, but he is frustrated with being fussed over… what can you do? You cannot do anything but add to the frustration by telling him that he has to stay there… as soon as he is back, he sleeps.
You wish that you could take the pain medication in order to ease your own… wish that you could feel the numbness… but you have the be there, there for her. So you watch the television while he sleeps, waking him every so often to give him medication, or try to get him to eat, but all he can do is mutter a few words, and close his eyes. After dinner (or lack thereof) you and your companions try to get him ready for bed, in a sense. Once the ordeal of dressing is over with and, he is asleep. You and your companions move to another part of the house in order to keep quiet…
With a few beers put back you head to you humble sleeping accommodations, a blanket and a couple pillows on the floor. There you sleep lightly until he needs something, or tries to get up. There you wait, to keep him there to make sure that he is safe and well taken care of…
There are picture frames that rotate pictures, of family and friends… pets and special places, but he doesn't really seem to see them… not really. You all live on edge waiting almost for the inevitable… and one day it will come, and you will try to be ready… but this is all you can do, the only thing you have left. he is the closest thing you have to a father… and all you can do is sit back and feel helpless… this is why you sleep on the cold, hard floor… for the love of your father figure, and his family, and extended family.
You do this for him… but in helping him live comfortably for the last few days, try to comfort the pain…
… you do this for you.
_AN: so yeah… the fic is just about my father's god-father dying of stomach cancer… I never knew him well, but this little fic is about , from what I believe hes grand-son sitting, and other relatives of him age…taking care of him and living with him and his wife. And most of what is here if not all is true (even the part about sleeping on the floor next to him)
Love y'all ROSIE! 3