{{JZ}}

So much love to JZ. I am so sorry this is happening.

My heart is breaking for you, Jacqueline.

I got back a little bit ago and am decompressing with Matilda and nachos and gin, and trying to fix every moment very clearly in my mind while I wait for the call from the hospital.

My dad definitely heard me and was listening hard. All he could see of me was my eyes--I was gowned and masked and gloved and my hair was covered, but my eyes, which are his eyes and his mother's eyes, were clear and visible and when he saw them he locked in on me in a way he never has before over the course of my entire life.

I went over the names of all his family members (that I could remember, and of course I left a couple out and now it is gnawing at me) and told him how much each of us loves him. I put my hand on his chest, which I have never done before, and felt his heart beating, and talked and talked. When I held his hand he squeezed mine, and when I showed him the card Matilda had made him almost two weeks ago, when he was first admitted and it looked like he might bounce right back and be home soon, he stared and stared at it. And when I said, "This is the hospital I was born in, isn't it?" he nodded.

I left Matilda's card tucked into the arm of the bed right in his sightline, and I could see him looking at it every time he opened his eyes again.

He looked exhausted, and his hair was a mess (I smoothed it down as best I could, and he seemed to be comforted by the touch, so I just kept petting his head) and he had the beginnings of a goatee because of course they can't shave around all the tubes. He looked so, so weary. I kept telling him it was okay to close his eyes and rest, and I didn't leave until he had drifted off and I could slip my hand out of his without him tugging at it.

It took a while to gather his belongings and I was in his room the whole time, so every time he stirred I went back to the bed and held his hand and looked at him until he relaxed again.

The clothes he arrived in were double-bagged because they're considered contaminated, and I lugged them home and left the double bag in the far corner of one of the storage spaces. If I leave them there for another couple of weeks and then take the bag straight to the laundromat and hot-wash it all... I don't even know. What will I do with it all? I have no idea. But at that point at least there will be nothing in any of it that can harm anyone.

And now Matilda is sobbing and raging that we didn't share every detail with her all along, and I can hear her crying in her room but she doesn't want either of us anywhere near her. I'm gutted all over again.

I'm so sorry JZ. My heart goes out to you. I don't have wisdom, but I've stood at the bedside of a dying parent. I know that pain.

Grief is harsh & unpredictable & you did your best & it will still suck & everyone will travel their own paths, unevenly & yet in parallel . I'm sorry, loves.

(((House Zmayhem))) so glad you got to look into his eyes again

I'm not crying, Dave is crying...

I wish you all some small comfort tonight. You gave each other an incredible gift in being there and truly speaking your heart and sharing those looks. It speaks volume of love.

JZ, I'm sorry. It's all so difficult. I'm glad you got the opportunity to see your Dad and talk to him.

I'm sorry for Matilda, too. She's at a hard age for all of this.

There comes a point where sometimes adolescent children have to understand/be reminded that parents are individual people with lives, and relationships, and heartbreak of their own. You didn't ask, but here's permission to tell Matilda: I told you what I could at the time. I am still processing this myself, and my heart is breaking.

Please take care of yourself, baby.