12.52
His death was announced at 12:52 and it felt like I hadn't had a chance to take a breathe since. The thought of never seeing him again, never hearing his voice makes my chest tighten simultaneously.
After taking a moment to splash my face with cold water, I brace my hands against the hospital basin before stealing a look at myself in the drip stained mirror.
What a fight.
For the last ten years he had danced with death.
Originally, chemotherapy done it's job. So much so, that it give him seven blissful years of remission only to dive head first back into the world of hospital trips, IV drips and this time a helping hand of radiotherapy. It all bought him time. Just not enough.
Letting out a shuddering breath, I straighten my shoulders and turn off the tap.
What a fight, indeed.
- ohitsraening
After taking a moment to splash my face with cold water, I brace my hands against the hospital basin before stealing a look at myself in the drip stained mirror.
What a fight.
For the last ten years he had danced with death.
Originally, chemotherapy done it's job. So much so, that it give him seven blissful years of remission only to dive head first back into the world of hospital trips, IV drips and this time a helping hand of radiotherapy. It all bought him time. Just not enough.
Letting out a shuddering breath, I straighten my shoulders and turn off the tap.
What a fight, indeed.
- ohitsraening
