Rose Colored Words Fall on Deaf Ears

"How long do you have left?" I asked that afternoon as I sat beside the window sill of the hospital room. The sun was beaming down through the glass despite how late in the day it was. A stagnant air had enveloped the room in a cloud of humidity that caused sweat to bead on my neck. My father laid his head against the pillow with a distant gaze.

"Doctor claims a few weeks. Maybe even less than that." He said. He slowly lifted his hand from beside him and gazed at his palm as if it was his first time seeing his body. "I can feel myself leaving this planet." Sweat dripped from his forehead down his cheeks, but he seemed to be unphased by the trickling of water.

The longer I stared at him, the less he looked like himself. His hairline had started to recede towards the middle of his head with little gray hairs sprinkled into the sparse black patches that remained. His eyes were sunken in with deep dark circles surrounding them like hollow crevices where they once were. Even his skin appeared paler, the rich brown color now dusty and graying just like everything else about him. I felt my stomach churn at the dried pieces of food that littered the corners of his mouth as he spoke.

"Can I ask you something?" I questioned.

His eyes remained focused on his palm while he quietly muttered to himself.

"It's like the skin doesn't even belong to me anymore."

"Why now? It's been ten years and you chose to talk to me again on your deathbed?"

He slowly placed his hand back down to his side and turned his head to face me for the first time since I had arrived. The emptiness that stared back was horrifying and made my body tremble the longer I stared.

"I wanted to say sorry," He stated. "I haven't been the greatest father to you, and I thought that the least I could do was apologize before I leave you forever."

I turned to face the flower that sat on his window sill, an addition to the room that appeared at the start of his second week in the hospital. Its browning leaves and withering stems seemed to mock my father's current predicament. The white color of the leaves was still present in some spots, but it wouldn't be long before the whole thing succumbed to wilting.

"You know, I love you, Joey. More than anything in the world."

I plucked a loose petal as a strong voice overtook the intercom.

"Attention. It is now 5 PM; visiting hours have concluded for the day. All visitors must return their passes and vacate the premises as soon as possible."

I stood up from my seat and headed towards the door, leaving my father to watch me escape from the sight of him. Air rushed past me from how fast I walked, releasing some of the burning tension plaguing my body, but not enough to satiate me. I excused myself past the nurse who entered to check his vitals before pausing at the door to watch him one last time. He continued to lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling as a single tear fell from his eye and blotted the gown. The nurse looked over and wiped his cheek as another one slipped out.

"Why are you crying?" She asked. His mouth moved, yet no sound came out. A silent cry for help. I headed towards the elevator and slammed the down button as I forced my eyes to face forward. Hot tears began to form, but I fought the urge to release them. My body felt as if it could melt into a pool at that moment. The heat was becoming insufferable, like a vacuum removing all air and logic from within me and replacing it with an indescribable numbness. My thoughts jumbled together in a series of random words and fragments like a sailor lost amid a storm. What did it feel like to lose yourself? Did it hurt? Or was it more mental than physical? How do you know when you're leaving? And what comes after the fact? Was leaving better than living in pain? Or was being alive better than losing it all?