End of suffering

A Poem by Spitzy

A poem describing the death of a loved one

The smell of disinfectant and disinformation rises to meet me as I enter the uncomfortably warm and yet austere building.
Built in a previous and more institutionally bound time red brick by red brick the foundations built on generations of misery and selective democracy.
Clip clop clip clip my shoes tap and echo against the worn but polished floor a juxtaposition between the modern and the old, a fake sense of progress that is intended to mollify us into acceptance of our fate. I step in the footsteps of the ages, thousands of people before me walking into misery and pain. Walking past nameless faces, masks of unidentifiable pain, some of relief and acceptance of what is.
The worn door handle in my grasp cold metal against a clammy hand. A lump in my throat I fear what is behind this door, not because of what is there but because it highlights my own mortality.
Ask the overly nice nurse where he is, told which bay, which room with a sad smile which has seen this a thousand times and will see it a thousand more. The message she conveys without words cannot be spoken but grips my stomach like an iron fist. Flip back to reality, all I can hear is talking, and the incessant beep beep beep all around that smell of food that hangs around hours after the meal because it's only competition is disinfectant and death. Walk into a room full of sad and miserable people.
Abject misery etched upon newly aged faces gathered around awaiting one of our owns demise.
Memories flood back of holidays and Christmases past, happy vibrant times when he was strong and younger. Now he lays there tripping off morphine, talking, mumbling words only he and god can understand, fighting things that are just not there. People talk about fighting your demons asking for absolution for your sins before you go, he doesn't have that opportunity, and so talks to the imaginary object of his attention. Does he talk to the departed of whom he was fond fighting for every last breath afraid of what is beyond, in the darkness blacker than an inky pond at midnight, no moon no sound like a black hole nothing can escape. The skeletal remains of a once strong human being who does not want to end. Skin like withered parchment dry and tight lips sponged to try and ease the obvious suffering with a bright pink sponge on the end of a lollipop stick.
Shake hands, kiss and hug people you see irregularly, but who hold the same feelings for the man before you. Why make him end like this oh god why not just make it quick and clean?
Beep beep beep, the rhythm of life clinging by its bloody finger nails to existence.
Talk to him quietly trying to stop his distress with false calmness in my voice, not feeling like I'm doing anything worthwhile I hold a cold and boney hand, which I held as a child, that hand that was full of warmth and has known so many hardships and happiness, a hand that I thought would be there for eternity can only cling to life for an amount of time that is countable in hours.
Beep beep beep I'm told that that visiting hours are done told to say my goodbyes.
I whisper in his ear that I love him, my lips commit the ultimate treason to my heart and tell him it is ok to let go, its time to go toward the light and join my nan in the afterlife. A kiss on the impossibly stretched and cold skin on his forehead , his features sunken and looking scared the morphine demons are coming back, I hate myself for not being able to stay sit and reminisce but my heart is ripped in bits but knowing his end will stop the suffering for him and selfishly for us.
Beep beep beep walking away from the bed, from the room, witness to other people's suffering, other people's pain, knowing that we share the same sadness about what is to come. Warm clammy hand upon the cold metal handle, through the door and down that forever stretching corridor into the cold and refreshing air, smiling, laughing people how can they be so happy when my heart is breaking , grandad I look forward to seeing you again, I know it will not be in this life but I will see you again. We will reminisce, I swallow the lump that is in my throat a single tear runs down my cheek, force myself not to feel the pain that I do, conform to the social masculine norms of society, harden my heart but remember not to forget his face, the image fades already I resist the urge to turn and run back for one more look. Frozen to the spot knowing that it's not an option. Force myself into the car to drive away, never turn back, knowing I will never forget that I love you grandad until we meet again.