In a ward of grumpy old men there was one who was much younger. Almost half my age (a little over 30) but looking half of even this. Severely disabled he did not speak, face mask to aid breathing up often removed with deliberate yet uncontrolled hands. Whatever his needs they were mental and physical and he was in pain.
6am awoken to the sound of beeping.
He will remain nameless.
It is not a death for me to share by name.
Time passes. Curtains remain closed.
Life goes on around death.
Breakfast is served.
Beds are made.
Tea is drunk.
Blood is taken.
Doctors on rounds consult the Grumpy men (not me today)
Who argue the toss.
They want to go home.
The Family arrive.
There are Tears. There is Grief.
The body departs to the morgue.
Passing peacefully into the night.
Into God’s care.