‘Hope for the Best’ by India LaPlace
Hope for the Best
When there’s nothing you can do, Including sleep, So you sit in a steamy bath And drink beer through a straw While you wait to hear if your mother has died in a hospital room 30 minutes away. I’ve been in my fair share of hospitals And I’m sure it’s colder than her bedroom, Where she’s been dying for the last 11 years.
And I feel a little guilty. Should I go up there? Visit her? It might be the last time I see her alive, technically, Even though it feels like she died in 2007. God. I’ve got to talk to my daughter about this and I don’t know what to say. Should I take my daughter to see her? Traumatize her the way I was traumatized when I was 16 and it was far worse than I’d imagined?
She was a husk of the woman who raised me. Like a caricature, But instead of being silly and exaggerated and humorous, She barely seemed to exist anymore. And she cried when she saw me see her. And she squeezed my hand for the last time. And she tried, But she couldn’t say my name. She tried to tell me it was going to be okay While I tried to hold back tears. And the next time I saw her, She didn’t know who I was.
The dog is crying downstairs. He misses my dad. He knows something is wrong. I haven’t cried yet. My tears for my mother stopped in that hospital room a long time ago. My sisters have cried while Speaking words like “quality of life,” And, “All we can do is hope for the best, whatever that means.” Feeling like assholes while we skirt around the synonymous thought we’re all having:
“I hope she doesn’t make it.”
So, listen. I get it. I loved Marvel too. But I’ve been watching my mom deteriorate for a decade. So when you send me your messages and snaps about Stan Lee, I’m not all that torn up.
