Asystole

Shimmers of the morning sky illuminate a haloed dahlia of alabasterine dusted, fresh pounce. A dappled blanket of spiralling inches whickers like the sound of tiny hooves floating down atop half a horse’s leg or more. Air crystalline, frozen breath of ghouls. Visible in speech, open mouthed, flared. Impossible to move without plowing through. Drifts of frozen water chanced to exist, hindrance blocked driveway on this windy, slippery day

My father, retired and toiled. Rubbed some coins together and poof an acre and a house. This was his moving day. Besmirched and ironic, like a blizzard on your funeral day. Yeah, a little too ironic. Like when the ambulance gets stuck taking you to the hospital. Queued like a Greek tragedy. Cardiac arrested for working too hard and shoveling too fast. Then collapse

My mother and me sitting in the waiting room ears cupped, listening for the beat of a 2nd shoe. The walls. Institution grey. Cold. Crackling luminescence. A TV set neighs in the corner whinnying on about some cloying daytime soap. Maybe a plot as dramatic as what was happening to me. Suddenly the doctor brought us into his office. Mrs….

I regret to tell you your husband is asystole

A million assassin bees wielding switchblades blood thirsty and drunk launched from my crushed, heaving hived heart. I wanted to strangle him with his blanched lab coat and pomp. Feed his stethoscope to him through his broken, blank expressionless face

Finally, the Dr’s lips hissed,
Your husband was DOA.
Our attempts to revive,
unsuccessful.

He brought us into an airless room. A carceral and familiar smothering galloped into my lungs, hung, drawn and quartered. Spilling and splattering invisible blood from dad’s and mom’s and sons and daughters and aunts from before. The undertaker and doctor perched like vultures at this my father’s dakhma. My dad was dressed in a white hospital gown with blue stripes. Supine on a sterile stainless steel stand. Stiff. Chin up. Eyes closed. A waft of antiseptic. I touched his cheek. Waiting for a reply

I touched his other cheek.
Tears pouring down mine
Eventually I kiss him
For the first time