Both my mom and dad fell into Comas and suffered irreversible brain damage. They passed away 8 months apart from each other, leaving me all alone; sitting back in all black, wishing i could have them back.   My dad was the first to be taken away from me.  He suffered a stroke and had three hemerrages in his brain which caused the brain damage. His organs started to fail one by one and we decided we should release his body to join his mind. We turned the machines off on June 25th, one day after his 62nd birthday, at 10 PM. I stayed by his side until 4 in the morning the next day. Once I left I couldnt get myself to go back.  I knew he was dying and this crippling fear came over me that he would die just the moment i walked in if i went back. My sister and my uncles would go sit with him so i knew he was not all alone.  He survived for 12 days before he gained his wings and flew away. 

Fast forward a few months; My mom is overwhelmingly depressed, as we all are. She is sick also. Suffering from diabetes.  She doesnt take the medicines that she is supposed to, only the ones that numb the physical pain; mostly opiates. She does not eat no matter what we bring her.  On January 18th she cries all day and finally goes to sleep. My sister finds her the next morning, unable to awaken.  An ambulance is called and she is rushed off to the hospital.  We are told that she suffered from a hypoglycemic shock. They explain that oxygen has not reached her brain for an unknown amount of time. Possibly over the entire night.  We are told that she will not be waking up. She will not recover or gain any of her mental capacity back.   Like a shot to the heart. We make the decision to release her. Let her join my father in heaven, where she really wanted to be. 

We made the decision to have the machines turned off. The facility she was at would not remove the ventilator where she was. She had to be moved in order to do it. So they removed the ventilator as they loaded her into a ambulance and sent her on a one hour commute to a hospital near home where my aunts promised to stay by her side until she passed away. I received a call from the hospital, stating i had to go to the new facility to sign her in.  I ended up arriving just as she did.  I wrote the following that evening as I lost my mind and scrambled to pick up the broken pieces of me...

I lost it today. I didn't want to see you like that.  But I did, I did. I am sorry that it was too much for me. I had to leave. I had to run away. I ran home and grabbed my bottle of vodka. I poured it into a glass like it was ice water and I had just returned from the desert. I drink and I smoked, I drank and smoked some more. Then, I fell to the ground and I started crying. I started gasping for air. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't be.   I was freaking out and could barely see. Then I saw my father's picture. My hero!... Please save me! I tried to pull it together and crawled over to him. I got on my hands and knees and put my hands together and started begging and praying to him, "Please, please Dad! Please..." but I didn't know what to say. What could I do? What could he do? I finally screamed "Please Poppa, stay with her! Take her home with you." Next thing I knew I was praying to God. Pleading over and over again; "Please!". Followed by " I don't even know..."  My fist crashed into the floor.  The pain was enough to snap me back to this retched reality. I collapsed on to the floor again. I wound up on my back and laid staring at the ceiling. Gasping for air. Then, I can't recall what I thought of but suddenly it seemed so clear... I was scrambling to my knees. I had to get back to You.