I am haunted
Followed by a ghost down bustling hospital hallways
It is drawn to the white coat that wears me
I see glimpses of its shadow in the yellowing of a patient’s skin and the rasp of smoker’s cough
The ghost draws my attention to common items in hospital rooms
The texture of a chair so painfully familiar beneath my fingertips
The fabric pattern makes my gut clench and eyes water
I hear whispers hidden in the white noise of oxygen tubing and alarming IV’s
Hidden in the darkness, I carry with me
~Sweetheart, have I told you how much I love you today? ~
Tears soak my cheeks
I wish I could disappear, but my white coat is bright and blinding
I leave the room, head down and gasping for breath
Sinking to my knees in the first place I find empty, sobs escaping
“No, Dad… you haven’t, how much do you love me?”
The response is silence
But still, I am haunted
The memory a man with his hands held wide, saying “this much!” unrelenting
