She said nothing.
He said nothing.
Yet, the silent conversation between them spoke volumes. Well punctuated sentences, long paragraphs. Profound. This was the beginning of goodbye; the end of a long journey together; the beginning of one that she must now continue alone. Both realizing their mortality. Doctor with limited abilities. Patient with limited ability to perpetuate life. God with all ability.
As they held hands and looked into each others’ eyes-husband and wife-they both spoke the same language: faith, love, hope, it’s in God’s hands now. Mom has chosen hospice. No more chemo. “Thank you, Doctor, for all you’ve done”.
I punctuated the silence with my own premature grief. “Mom, say something. Are you sure this is what you want?” ‘Yes, I’m sure. I’ve lived a good life. I know my body. It’s time'”.
More silence. No tears, Just Screaming Silence! Deafening silence!
Dad watched. Blank stare; yet all the lines were filled in on his pages. “I’m not ready” written over and over again, line after line.
The doctor breaks the silence. “Stay as long as you need to”, as he left, closing the door behind him. And, we did. as we prepared for the journey ahead.