It’s nearly 1am. I need to be sleeping, but my mind feels the need to go through the trauma all over again first.
My mind:
“I miss you Payton pie. I wish I could hold your hand like I used to when you slept in my bed. I miss the way you said the word “wish”. I can hear it now. You died in this bed, right next to where I am laying right now. I came back into my room after talking with the nurses to someone saying “It’s almost time”. What?! No?!? It can’t be time yet. No way, we need more time. Why is he breathing like that? It sounds horrible. Music is playing. Songs you love. Your dad and brothers and sissy are hugging you, telling you goodbye. They’re crying. Everyone is crying, except for you. You are just dying. I give you kisses. That last breath….I don’t know if I knew it was the last. I was in disbelief, waiting for another breath, but it never came. You were gone. A loud horrific noise aroused from my soul that I couldn’t replicate in a million years. I wanted to hold you. I couldn’t lift you. The steroids had made you too heavy for me to lift. I held you the best I could. I sobbed. I had to get out of the room. Your soul was gone. I felt it leave. I hyperventilated and sobbed on the back porch. Our lives changed right then. Why?”
I pet our dog Paisley who is laying next to me in bed, and think of you again; you would have been petting her right now. I have to go to the bathroom. I open my eyes and realize I am crying. The thoughts send tears to my eyes without me even noticing it. I return to bed and snuggle up to Paisley. I tell you goodnight. I go to sleep, only to do it all again tomorrow night. Every. Single. Day. And night. I think of you.
Payton Strong 