The Empty Bed
I leaned over you as we tried to pump life back into your soul again.
The look in your eyes was indicative that you were already gone, but we tried against the reaper to win.
Your family wept and told us to keep trying, they didn’t want to let you leave.
So we continued on, with all of us in a silent conversation with the others knowing it wasn’t something we could achieve.
Finally, after rounds and rounds of medications, shocks, and pumping so hard on your chest, we have sweat pouring down our faces.
The family said, “Please quit, that’s enough.” Tears filled my eyes as I tried to hide it by staring at my shoelaces.
They said goodbye to you and we took the appropriate steps to clean you up, call the funeral home, and prepare for them to pick you up in the middle of the night.
Your eyes were glazed over and shiny, as if the next thing you saw was what we all dream of …. that mysterious light.
I wondered if you had been a teacher, a pastor, a truck driver, or maybe you worked on cars for a living.
I hoped you met your maker with all the love you deserved and feeling of forgiving.
I try to remember you were someone’s dad, husband, brother, son, and friend.
It hurts me to know you were surrounded by strangers in the end.
But those strangers would give anything to bring you back to how you were before you met us in this place.
They lovingly take care of every gender, ethnicity, color, and every race.
