My Last Birthday with Dad
BY Ashley Harrison
We curl up in hard chairs
as Dad breathes because the machine tells him to
The darkness under Mom’s eyes never changes
Not even when she crashes on the floor
of an unused conference room down the hall
and tells us to watch the door
Some say, “Sorry”
“Everything happens for a reason”
“It’s God’s will”
“I know how you feel”
I only hear things like, “Hemorrhaging”
“Four strokes in the brain”
“Can you see me?”
“No”
Mom holds his hand so gently
She bites her lips
while my little brother sings about
gulls calling across the sea
to come home
Random brush strokes cover the walls
I guess they count as paintings
I never knew that antiseptic
reeked so bad
Another family gathers in the waiting room outside
Their grandfather dropped with a heart attack
He’s old, decrepit, useless
He gets to say goodbye
Dad just gets to have the plug pulled