Celeste
Today 7:14 PM
Hi Dara. I just read the text you sent before you took off this morning. Sorry I couldn’t text back before you left but there wasn’t time. I’m at the hospital now. I know you want to be here too but you and Jeff have been planning this trip for so long that Mother would’ve never forgiven herself if you canceled because of her. Even if you were here there’s nothing you could’ve done. Mother’s gone.
Celeste
Today 7:17 PM
The nurse just came in to check on Mother but like I said she’s gone. I don’t mean that she’s dead. At least I don’t think she is. What I mean is that she keeps disappearing. Literally. One minute she’s here lying in bed and struggling for breath and the next minute she’s gone. She just disappears. Maybe for a couple of seconds maybe a couple of minutes. And then she’s back as suddenly as she left. It’s been happening on and off ever since I got here first thing this morning.
Celeste
Today 7:21 PM
The nurse just came back to check again. Right now Mother has been gone nearly 30 minutes which I guess is much longer than usual. I just asked the nurse if we really even have a mother. He just shrugged his shoulders and said he’d get the doctor. So now I’m just waiting.
Celeste
Today 7:28 PM
Nothing new to report. I’m still waiting for the doctor. Mother did seem to recognize me when I first got here. She kept reaching out to me. She still couldn’t talk after being intubated from before so I’m guessing it was me she was reaching for. I’m pretty sure she could understand me. The nurse agreed that Mother seemed to be reacting to what I was saying. Like when I asked her if she was hungry and she motioned like she wanted me to feed her some ice chips. I only stopped when I realized I was dropping them onto an empty pillow.
Celeste
Today 7:33 PM
The nurse just told me the doctor is on his way. I’ve got to tell you Dara that empty bed looks so big and so deep that it’s hard to imagine anyone ever having been in it. Especially Mother who looks smaller now than ever. Looked smaller than ever? I don’t know which is right.
Celeste
Today 7:38 PM
The doctor just left. He had to rush off for a code blue. Before he left he said not to worry. He said she hasn’t been gone long enough whatever that means. I asked him the same thing I asked the nurse. He reassured me that we do have a mother. All I know is that when I look at this empty bed I don’t feel as if we ever had a mother at all. I feel untethered and alone like some doomed astronaut floating
Celeste
Today 7:41 PM
Mother’s back! She just appeared in her bed while I was texting. I heard the nurse cry out Dios mio! and looked up from my phone to see Mother reaching out for me. The doctor is on his way back right now.
Celeste
Today 8:31 PM
Mother’s been back for over 45 minutes now. She finally seems to be breathing easier. She just keeps motioning for more ice chips. The doctor told me before he left that he’s seeing this kind of thing more and more lately since the pandemic began. I guess some people near the end are starting to blink in and out of reality. Blink is his word, not mine. He told me to think of it like a failing light on a Christmas tree. One moment it’s beautiful and glowing and the next moment all you see is its absence among all the other lights. I don’t pretend to understand. The nurse is going to try and give Mother a bath before she blinks away again. Visiting hours officially ended at 8 so I’m heading out. I’ll text more when I get home.
Celeste
Today 9:12 PM
I’m home. What a day! I’m going straight to bed. I’ll text you tomorrow with any updates. I hope your flight went smoothly. I won’t be able to make it back to the hospital until after dinner tomorrow because if I’m being honest Dara I’m exhausted. I haven't been sleeping a lot since Mother was admitted. And after today I have to tell you that I’m afraid to close my eyes. The dark that’s behind my lids scares me. But opening them frightens me even more.
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Kip Knott is a writer, photographer, teacher, and part-time art dealer living in Delaware, Ohio. His debut collection of stories, Some Birds Nest in Broken Branches, is available on Amazon. His writing has appeared in Beloit Fiction Journal, HAD, Jellyfish Review, MoonPark Review, and Virginia Quarterly Review. He spends most of his spare time traveling throughout Appalachia and the Midwest taking photographs and searching for lost art treasures. You can follow him on Twitter at @kip_knott and read more of his work at kipknott.com.