The tears. They always come. Whenever I see him in the hospital, laying on the highly uncomfortable beds that don’t allow for any decent rest. Sometimes they come as soon as I leave his room, unwilling to wait until I make it to the elevator before I have to stop the sobs from taking over. Other times, like today, they wait. They hold off on the elevator ride down, they don’t come on the car ride home, they let me finish lunch and a few cups of coffee -and then in the not so silent afternoon sun, they come.
My mind races with questions and thoughts from the past few days, the past few years, the past few lifetimes, it would seem. All piling up, willing to be heard, unwilling, however, to wait their turn. The overwhelmingness of thoughts that pile in faster than I can unpack them brings the tears today.
The thing is, I just have no answers. So the thoughts. They just keep spinning. And the tears. They just keep falling.
