Pulling the Plug

I’m waiting for someone to die.

Not in the literary sense, but in the tragic real world way things happen. My sister is on life support right now. She made a series of bad decisions that lead her to be brain-dead in the hospital being kept alive by machinery.

As I wait for the switch to flip, I look at my life and work through my emotions. Anger, sadness, regret, and guilt are having a cage match in my psyche. The echo of what might have been is strong right now. I don’t want to get caught in the waves of the past.

I want to believe that she’ll be going to a better place. I’m not sure that I do. The scientist in me thinks that she’s just ceases to exist. Her particular uniqueness gone forever. Leaving behind a puzzle. What was missing that made these choices seem like good choices? What really happened? The only person who might be able to tell us, if she even knew, is no longer able to tell us anything.

I have landed on two ways to make her death meaningful in my life.

First, I will do what I can, even using her as an example, so my kids make different choices.

Second, my sister will be a character in a book. It will not be a FaceBook post sort of character, but as real and true as I can make her.

She would’ve liked that.

What have you done when dealing with a death?

Kidbit: Cartwheels and father’s day

“I can’t do a cartwheel.”  My daughter puts her hands down and kicks her feet up, before slumping to the ground.

“Maybe someone can show you and then you can practice,”  I say.

“Can you do cartwheels?”  She adds that hopeful lilt at the end.

“Nope, but Daddy can.”

Her eyebrow juts up.  She has the quizzical look down cold. “Daddy can do cartwheels?”

“Yup.” Starting at a very young age, her daddy was forced through the gauntlet of sports. Including gymnastics.

“But he is a boy and soo old!”

Happy father’s day.