Oak Leaf
I didn’t get there in time for Dad’s surgery.
Drove along the interstate watching
winter oak leaves hang on in the wind.
The next day, he was pretty out of it on morphine;
thought my brother had killed himself
and that it was WWII.
I tried to orient him. Watched the therapists
put him in a chair. I knew he
would never walk again.
We have been trying to call you.
I had been in the shower.
You need to come now.
Decisions have to be made.
He was on maximum blood pressure meds,
on a breathing machine sucking for air,
he looked like he was hurting.
Dad has a living will.
My brother is 10 hours away,
let me call him. Then please turn the drugs
and breathing machine off.
His breathing remained regular
and blood pressure low,
I didn’t think he would last long.
Told him it was okay to leave.
He hung there in the wind
until my brother came.
Then his breathing got irregular,
his pressure lower, and he let go.
Broad River Review
2/2014
