I’m not sure if the birds chirped that morning. I was sleeping. Who heard them? Who knows their song? They carried it till evening. And through the night a whisper was heard, when it was, there she stood.
There was no where to sit. The room was loud. She was the only one speaking. Her words were soft as she held his hand. This is our pandemic, this is tomorrow’s history. This is her part of the story. Heroes emerged and heroes resurfaced. The worst of the worst, the stories that change you, are always in the ICUs. And that’s exactly where she was. In her isolation gown, the gloves, the N95, the googles, the shield, the whole shebang. Did he know he was dying? He knew he was alone. Compassion isn’t taught. It is the virtue of a nurses’ heart. So there she stood for the next 3 hours, hot and sweating, exhausted and dehydrated, devastated and trying.
She was always a hero, a superwomen. She is a COVID fighter. She was the one that was standing as he took his last breath. She filled his last moments with company, with words of comfort, a smile that was seen in her eyes, tears that only we will understand. She was his gentle whisperer, the guardian that was sent, prepared for moments such as this. We will never know his last thoughts, his last emotions. We will never understand why all this is happening. But we all saw her standing. The definition of compassion. She is my friend.