You're sleeping, and I've lost track of time.
It's getting late, the last rays of a dying sun sneak into the room through the open window, painting your pale face of a thousand orange shades. I've been sitting here the whole afternoon, with nothing else to do but trying to imprint the details of your face in my memory forever. Not that I need to, I know your face by heart already, but I'm terrified at the idea of not being able to keep your memory alive. It's all I've been doing this past few days. I stay here, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, listening to the footsteps of the nurses coming and going and lightly shaking my head whenever they ask me if I need anything, because the only thing I need right now is a miracle that could save you, and it's not the nurses I have to ask that to.
You're sleeping, and it's time for me to leave you.
It's time to go home to our kids, who must be waiting for me. Who must be waiting for me to get home and tell them their mum is fine, that she's resting and maybe today she'll get better. This would be the right moment for me to leave, because you're sleeping, and I wouldn't have to say goodbye. That's the worst part, that goodbye I always fear will be the last one. Those hours between the moment I leave the hospital and the moment I get back, in which I can't shake the thought that you may have passed while I wasn't here. The thought of having to say goodbye terrifies me, but I'm even more scared of the possibility of not being able to.
You're sleeping, and I really should go home.
Just a little while, I keep telling myself. Another couple of minutes. The truth is, I can't accept that our time together is almost up. I have waited for you my whole life, love, I entrusted the destiny with all my hopes. The destiny that bought us together, and is now bringing you away from me. Soon, too soon, I won't have but memories of you. Life only goes forward, you once told me. But how can I move forward, how can I even think about the future, when in my past there's you?
You're sleeping, and I just can't bring myself to leave.
Because this time it's different.
This time I'll have to go home and tell our children their mom is gone, and wipe away their tears while holding back my own, because they're just kids, and they'll need me to be strong for them.
This time I won't be scared of not seeing you again, because this goodbye was the last one.
This time I won't spend the night praying you'll be given another day.
You're sleeping, and this time you won't wake up.
