Dancing & Dying
My scheduled alarm tone rang out. It was time to check on Ryan. He had a horrific grand mal seizure that week and his speech began to fail shortly thereafter. I moved my mattress to his bedroom floor in what would end up being my new home for the last few weeks of his life. I managed to slot each waking moment around whatever chaos brain cancer threw at us. I had unsuccessfully tried to stay awake to watch a movie in his room with my mom. The credit music whirred in the background as I sat on his bed in an exhausted fog. I did what I always did. I ran my fingers through his hair, kissed his forehead, and held his hand as I prayed the same desperate prayer over him. After 'amen,' he abruptly squeezed my hand back, with his eyes still closed, and swung my arm in the air. Confused and trying to interpret his movements, I asked if he was okay and what he saw. "You," he whispered. Still unsure, I shrugged as I looked over at my mom. Her eyes welled up as she realized, ...
