Thursday was just like Wednesday, Daddys breathing was erratic and faint. His extremeties were really starting to swell. I just couldnt believe I was watching my Daddy die right before my eyes. He could no longer attempt at squeezing my hand, his eyes didn't even flutter, he just laid there peacefully, barely alive. I couldn't take my eyes off of him all day, until it was time for bed. My mother had been sleeping in the windowsill couch, and my brother on a cot that hospital security found us, we had basically moved in for two weeks. I was in a reclining type chair next to Dads bed, and just like when he was at home, I had my loptop open watching NetFlix so he could watch them with me. His breathing was becoming more and more shallow, I just kept waiting for his chest to not come up again. I was so upset, but my body didn't know how to show it, it knew I had to remain strong, if Daddy was going to go tonight, my mother and brother are both asleep, it'd just be me. But then I thought about two December's ago, in this very hospital, how I had just gotten to Daddys room from being at school for class, when the doctor came in and told us he had severe staged cancer. It was just me and him then, and it was just me and him now. We always shared a special bond, I was his little girl... We could exchange looks at eachother and get our point across, he didn't have to communicate how he felt to me then and he didn't have to now. I just curled up in my chair with a bunch of hospital blankets, I took his hand, and I waited.
The nurse came in to give him his next round of medications a little after midnight, just as I was telling Daddy about Mariano Riveras last game and how Jeter and Andy took him out in style, I kissed his hand that I was holding and I just stared at him. Thinking about all the things he had taught me in my life, all the values and loves that he had instilled in me, and how scared I was about life without my Daddy... When I looked up, he exhaled, and his chest didn't come back up. I looked at the clock, 1:06am ... It was now Friday and I didn't even realize it. I stared back at him, his chest still hadn't risen, I almost threw up right then and there... He was gone, completely and totally gone. I looked at my little brother snoring on a cot next to me, and my mom asleep across the room. It was just me and Daddy, just like this journey started, I couldn't let go of his hand, I had to use my other hand to separate us. Then I made sure his eyes were completely closed, and I went to wake up my mom.
"Momma, ... Momma, he's gone."
She looked up and sat up and sighed, and we both woke up my brother... We all cried for a bit, and then started to clean up the mess we had made of the room over the past two weeks. And once we felt okay enough, we went and told the nurses what had happened...
Then we had to leave, we had to say goodbye... I didn't want to go, but the funeral home was coming soon and we needed to get some sleep to be able to handle the weekend ahead of us. I just kept kissing his forehead like I always did, his skin already starting to turn yellow, I didn't care, he's still my Daddy...mine.