Gone From My Sight

Our houses are protected by the good Lord and a gun
And you might meet 'em both if you show up here not welcome son
Our necks are burnt, our roads are dirt and our trucks ain't clean
The dogs run lose, we smoke, we chew and fry everything
Out here, way out here

We won't take a dime if we ain't earned it
When it comes to weight brother we pull our own
If it's our backwoods way of livin' you're concerned with
You can leave us alone
We're about John Wayne, Johnny Cash and John Deere
Way out here

We got a fightin' side a mile wide but we pray for peace
'Cause it's mostly us that end up servin' overseas
If it was up to me I'd love to see this country run
Like it used to be, oughta be, just like it's done
Out here, way out here

We won't take a dime if we ain't earned it
When it comes to weight brother we pull our own
If it's our backwoods way of livin' you're concerned with
You can leave us alone
We're about John Wayne, Johnny Cash and John Deere
Way out here

We won't take a dime if we ain't earned it
When it comes to weight brother we pull our own
If it's our backwoods way of livin' you're concerned with
You can leave us alone
We're about John Wayne, Johnny Cash and John Deere
Way out here, way out here

Our houses are protected by the good Lord and a gun
And you might meet 'em both if you show up here not welcome son

I read a pamphlet last night from the hospice that's taking care of him. They go through the phases of death that a person goes through. As of right now he's in the "Hours Until" category. Or at least he was last night. 

How come it's harder to wait for death than it is to just find out? You know it's coming and it's coming fast, but you can't do anything except sit there and watch as it gets closer. I hate waiting, and yet, I don't want it to get here. My mind is numb in a sense that if I chose, I could sit in one spot all day and just be dazed out and unresponsive to anyone who walks along. 

From seeing all this I've noticed the changes. The mood's changed, the skin, the voice, the breathing, everything. He's in his own mind thinking about a lot of things. He doesn't notice anyone around him or anything for that matter. He just wants to sit in his chair and with his eyes closed and think. I wonder what he's thinking about though. What does a dying person go through in their mind as they wait for it to come. 

At least I'm not there. I don't have to sleep in the chair next to him hoping I don't wake up to find him gone. But Cody does. I'd rather switch places but Cody wouldn't want that. He's hurting the most. He hasn't left his side since he's been home. Cody's never been through a death like this before. I hate it. 

I have to be the strong one. I'm not allowed to cry in front of Stephanie or Cody. It's tough because I want to scream and thrash about and question everything that's happening. Everything's changing and I hate it. I'm losing more than a part of my heart. I'm losing my childhood right in front of me. When he goes, it'll all go with him. 

I know what's going to happen. I've accepted what's to come, but I'm still scared. I'm terrified. It got worse when I told him goodbye, possibly for the last time, and realized he was looking at me but not seeing me. He's pulled himself away from everyone and thinking about is life. Soon he might get a surge of energy and talk for a while, then he'll go to sleep and not wake up. I know how it's going to end. Gasping for breath like a fish out of water, then peace. He won't know what's going on. He'll be gone by then, but his body will keep ticking till the end. That's what the hospice pamphlet said. 

Or maybe that won't happen. Who knows if the damn pamphlet is right. He's too stubborn to go through any of that shit, yet he's been ready for years now. He's accepted his fate, said his goodbyes and i love yous. It's up to us to keep our promise to be strong.

I don't want tomorrow to come. It scares me. I hate it. But it's there and I'm getting hit head on. 

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”
And that is dying.
~Henry Van Dyke