Monday, July 27, 2015

#

Last time I was leaving, we couldn't hug. He was asleep in the ICU. With half of his colon and a third of his bladder ripped off from his insides. I had left him a letter. Saying that he was brave and I was proud of him.

This time we hug and cry. I'm leaving again. I'm not sure when I will see him again. Maybe a year, or two, or three. But times are better now.
Though, that's when I feel it: the feeling of being in the middle of an endless, free fall, as if, even if I hit the floor, I'd still be in the middle of falling.