We sat in silence

in Room 1220,

the bustling of the nurses feet

and the machines

around us filled the space. 

beep, beep, beep. 

On other sides of the room 

as we awaited 

your final return. 

The hope from his mother

filled the air,

his life flashing before her eyes,

and all she wanted for his future,

her bright, shining boy. 

I wish I could have 

shared that with her,

sitting in the chair by the window. 

I could not see him

in that future.

A mere shadow 

stood across from me 

at the altar. 

An empty figure 

sat with me at the dinner table,

and next to me at the bar.

A clouded presence

was all I saw 

when I was teaching my children

to cook our family meal. 

I knew he was gone,

and I had 32 more minutes

until I was proven right.

Until then,

we sat in silence.