Those Grey Eyes

I saw your eyes for the first time
In three days tonight
You look at me with those grey eyes
What do you want to say?

What is it I see in your eyes, is it sadness?
You look as if you're about to cry
Please don't do that
My heart couldn't stand it if you did

For I would end up in tears as well
Which is something I've tried
Desperately not to do in front of you
Succeeding only part of the time

I want to tell you so many things
Afraid I won't get another chance
But when I saw those eyes
The words vanished into thin air

You look at me again
Your mouth is moving
But you can't talk around
The tube down your throat

I rub your arm, your forehead
And tell you not to talk
That it's okay
And that I love you

But I'd really rather that
They remove that tube
If only for a minute
So I can hear what you have to say

This is all so overwhelming
The monitors, the tubes and IV's
Giving and removing
Fluids from your body

It's so hard to see you like this
I imagine you feel trapped inside
I ask you if you're in pain
You shake your head no

Your eyes close and you drift off again
Silently I stand at your bedside
Rubbing your arm
Saying a prayer

Trying so hard not to cry
My heart aches and I'm feeling nauseous
I need to leave
I physically can't take much more

So I tell you we're leaving
And that you should just rest
And that I love you
You close your eyes

But I can't seem to leave just yet
I watch you until
Tears threaten to overtake me
I simply must leave

I don't want you to see me like this
Upset and so scared of losing you
So quietly we slip out
Of your room

As I walk down the hall I hold on tight
To the last words you said to me
Three days ago the last time
I saw those grey eyes of yours…

“I love you, too.”

10.4.05

CMT

Author's Notes

My mother had hiatal hernia surgery at the end of September, then developed complications, and two days later had to be transferred to another hospital to their ICU, where they ran some tests and performed emergency surgery that afternoon. The doctors kept her sedated for three days. So, when I came to see her, she was always asleep.

It was so overwhelming to see her like that, totally out of it. Everyday when I visited, it seemed that a new IV pump had been added to the stand. They just kept multiplying, until there were two stands with multiple pumps pumping stuff into my mom. Then on Tuesday, Kodi and I went to the hospital. When I spoke to my mom, she opened her eyes and looked at me. I was glad to finally see her awake, which I thought was a good sign. But I wanted to hear my mother's voice, which was impossible with the ventilator tube down her throat.

I wrote this poem after getting home from the hospital that night. My mother was on the ventilator for a total of two and half weeks, which seemed like such a long time not to hear her voice. I even called my parent's house once just to hear the message on their answering machine.