Mo Town

American Idol Week: Mo Town 3/25/09
Chris was too tired to watch with me, tired or his brain was rattled from the toxins his dying liver could not clear. I joined him on our queen sized bed, in the bedroom, decorated to look like the Carribean, complete with neon palm tree. The March night was cold and a driving rain conflicted with the serene blue of the walls. It mirrored the havoc that was playing out in the love of my life's body, calm on the outside, yet fighting for his life on the inside.The soft light that fell upon his tall and graceful body looked like the light of a Saint Martin sunset, hitting the peak of his nose and casting shadows in the cheeks that cancer had hallowed out. I wanted to be with him in one of our everyda activitieis and tried to watch the televison, but he was dozing or rather the toxins from his liver failure were not allowing him to stay awake. I opted to let him rest.....for what I don't know. Does dying take as much energy as birthing? He just seemed so sleepy, so out of it and any commotion seemed disturbing. When in actuality I was the one that was disturbed. What was I thinking leaving him alone if even for an hour? But I was afraid. I watched my father die, but only because we had pulled the vent from him. We knew it was going to happen, I was unsure, this time.Was he just sick, would all the wheat grass and kale juice go speeding to the cancer cells and make them die? Would he make a miraculous trip back from the jaws of death into my open and aching arms? What was happening? I couldn't imagine it, or even lightly go there in my brain, so I took a break, went to the back room, where the big screen, his baby was. I sink into the couch and hit the remote.
American Idol. Mo Town Week. Adam has selected the Smokey Robinson standard.
Tracks of my Tears. When I listen to this song now it feels different then that night. The first time I saw the performance, and listened to it...... it was the of greatness of Adam's vocal prowess. His facial expression mirror what I feel inside, intensity, sadness, intensity.
The next day and for the whole week, as I obsessively listened to it, over and over. Outside I am masquerading, inside my hope is fading. I had spent many a moment crying on the inside, not wanting Chris to see my distress, smiling on the outside, talking about getting to Florida a place where we might have a chance for a cure, a reprieve from this nightmare. But my hope is fading, I am afraid to think, it feel it or talk about it. I am vibrating with fear and horror, traveling down a dark unknown path with on one to guide me and my sole source of comfort and strength is withering. outside I look numb.
I never ever wanted Chris to see my tears although I did lose it on more than a few occasions.
HE was always there to comfort me.

I am so frightened that he is slipping away, and helpless to stop it, just like the waves receding into the sand. There is nothing I can do to turn the tide of this cancer.