I waited to see you, stood in the lobby.
Lost, so I waited til my mom came and got me.
She found me, there, and asked, "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," I said. We went up to fourth floor.
Through cold, metal doors and sanitized hallways,
took forever to get there (must have taken the long way).
Family surrounding, I stepped through the curtain
still not believing your death could be certain.
I watched your chest move, watched the ups and the downs.
I watched the twitching of tubes on the ground.
The beeps and the buzzes, all the plugs and IVs,
I saw your brother cry and your mom wishing, "Please."
I stared at the ceiling, failing to hold back the tears.
I couldn't control it, in swept all these fears.
Family said their goodbyes and slowly they left.
Somehow I got courage to take that first step.
I walked to your bed, gave a hug to your mom,
looked at your face, you just looked so calm.
I squeezed your hand tight, wrapped my fingers around.
Tears streamed down my face as it stared at the ground.
I turned to leave back through those cold metal doors.
Please hold my hand through this, just like I held yours.