When the Twilight is Fading

From Niles' hospital window I watch as yet another day comes to a close and all I can do is reflect.

Another day, and Niles, My Love, much like twilight now before me, is fading.

With each passing hour, his strength, what's left of it, wanes. While always devoid of much color, he has gone from a (as he always jokes with Roz) "he's always this pale", to an almost ghastly and ghostly pale.

I turn (out of habit more than anything else) to take a quick glance at all his life support monitors before redirecting my attention to the sunset.

I can't help but wish I were more like Frasier, who has learned how to drone out the awful sounds his brother's monitors make. I have often wondered if maybe it's due to the years of schooling and/or psychiatric practice that enables him to do so.

I asked Martin a couple of times if he still hears them and all I get for a reply is a shrug. Which is what I have come to expect from the old man, since he, like his youngest son, has considerable trouble expressing his feelings. Both also tend to dismiss serious things such as this with an air of nonchalance in order to cope.

As for me, I still get an eerie chill each and every time I walk into his room and hear all his monitors screaming and flashing. I guess my fear is letting go. That if I get accustomed, if you will, to his monitors and to their sounds, it also means that I have accepted his fate, which I don't. I've overheard his nurses whispers amongst themselves, his monitors, they feel, are just recording his vitals as he slowly slides towards death.

The twilight has now disappeared, so I now redirect my attention to Niles.

I sit down on his bed and pick up the washcloth.

"Niles, my love." I sigh deeply and lovingly begin to stroke his still direly warm and sticky cheek that is slightly swollen due to his respirator tube taped to it.

"I know you can hear me," I encourage. "Your girls miss you and we both want you home where you belong."

"Niles…" I sniff to fight off the encroaching tears.

I feel two reassuring hands on my trembling shoulders and turn.

"Oh Frasier, " I wail as Frasier pulls me into a much needed and supportive hug.

The sniff was not strong enough and the dam breaks, and I sob, emptying myself out completely.

To be continued…