My Superman

So I’m sitting in this hospital that I lost my mom in, the same waiting room in fact where I sat all alone waiting because they wouldn’t let me go back to ICU, they had called my family and somehow from the time I left the school where I was teaching to the 45minute drive to the hospital they had decided that she wasn’t going to make it.

This same waiting room, this time I’m alone again except it is Dad that is going in for another back surgery.

It isn’t the same because his strength and will is far stronger than anyone I know. It isn’t the same because mom’s diabetes was out of control and she refused to take the doctor’s advice. Because a flesh eating bacteria decided to make her its host.

It isn’t the same. I have to keep telling myself that.

He isn’t my uncle who died just after father’s day, who I couldn’t get to in time. He isn’t his brother though they look so much alike.

He’s my Superman even when he’s curled up on his side looked like a little boy in a too big bed. All I want to do is run my fingers in his soft short hair and cry and beg for him to come back to me.

I can’t do that. I have to be strong and I try to never let him down. The roles have reversed, he’s my small child and I’m the doting mom except for times like these, I’m very much the child.

Daddy come back soon, your little girl is scared and all alone.

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About TXMoonbaby

Farmgirl, caregiver, furmommy and try-to-be-writer who floods Twitter with the antics of the characters in my head, like @TammyJo__.

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