IT TOOK SO LONG

As I entered the ICU to see my daughter, she lay there in her hospital bed mouth agape and oxygen tubes running from her nose, it took me aback. Since March 7th, I have not seen her, not seen her beautiful smile, her laughing eyes, and her happy aura.

Lying there is did not move, did not acknowledge my presence, just tried to breathe and survive, one breath at a time, slow almost measured breaths.

There I stood, admiring her beautiful black hair, naturally curled framing her alabaster skin, a naturally beautiful woman just as she was a naturally beautiful child, once.

I don’t see the woman, middle-aged now, I still see the child, my child, the first child that bore the family last name.

When she was born at Southside Hospital in Bay Shore, I took Mom up to see her in the room where they kept the newborns. Mom looked at her pink bundle and being a grandmother several times already, she said: “This is the first Del Broccolo baby!” It hadn’t occurred to me but she was right, the other grandchildren were from her daughters, this one carried the family name.

After 48 years of life, mostly sweet but challenged, she is facing another set of rules that her frail body must follow, ones that say can’t feel well, you can’t live normally, nor can you eat like others or understand what is happening, you must suffer.

So, I visited her in her hospital world, and she didn’t even know I was there. I couldn’t wait to see her, after all, March 7th is a long time ago to miss someone you love.