but wouldn't cry then no choked it because
they all said hearing was the last to go
~ "No Goodbyes"
I won't cry. I can't. If I start, I won't stop and you'll hear me breaking. You're going through so much, Roger, and you already spend too much time worrying about me. I can't do it. I can't cry.
It's getting to me, though. I don't know how much longer I can sit here on this wooden plank the hospital calls a chair and listen to your lungs crackle with fluid as you breathe in your sleep. How many more times I can watch you flinch as some inept intern jabs you with a needle. How many more times I can smile through Joanne's sympathetic looks, Maureen's quiet sobs, Collins' fading energy, Benny's offered charity before I just snap and I scream and yell and throw my camera into the wall, the broken pieces shattering and falling to the floor with a satisfying crash.
You wake and lay a calloused hand over mine. I didn't know I had been gripping the bed sheet so hard, and I suddenly realize how sore my jaw is from clenching it so tightly. I look up into your face, and your blue eyes are strangely large, or maybe that's just how sallow you've become. You whisper softly, "Let it go, Mark," and I begin to cry.