greg, how do i put into words what i witnessed? we walked in and saw you so small, so deflated of life, so hooked up to technology. it was clear that the doctors and nurses had tried every damn thing they could. some machines were whirling, some were beeping, others bleated out numbers and blips and lines. bucky's certain if they'd had you on systems running on mac osx, you would have been better off.
a visual shock... those four giant hoses running blood from your leg to your neck... but your mom gave me a quick lesson in ECMO technology. she's become an expert... i was impressed. your breathing was odd, there were tubes and needles on every visible part of your body, and clearly beneath the johnnies too. it took me a little while to understand how everything was connected, working, happening.
your parents were so strong, greg. we stood with you and exchanged stories and moments and loving words of your life, your passion for music, anime and computers, your sense of humor and your penchant for the understatement. Eine stayed with you the whole time, and i thought that would suit you just fine... since Batz Maru was no where to be found. iTunes kept belting out your favorite tunes.
ironically, you were the largest, oldest patient at Children's Hospital, yet their attendance to you was as loving and caring as it would be for a small, scared child. when it was time, the nurses sweetly, gently explained as they removed tape and tubes and machines from your body. 'it's alright.' 'you're ok.' 'everyone is here for you, greg.'
and we were. we were there so intensely for you, that the rest of the room fell away. we stood, your mom, dad, bucky and i with our hands on you, saying prayers with the hospital minister, who was cheeky and helpful. a favorite chant of mine bubbled out... these moments are bittersweet and soft and beautiful. we waited, holding space for you while you took your last labored breaths.
bucky felt your energetic body cease transmitting. i poured as much loving energy into you as i could to help your passage be smooth. we all had eachother's backs. i felt your appreciation and i was honored to be there for you and your family.
we toasted your name with spicy scallop roll and sake at that place we always went in harvard square. before that meal, i had never been to that restaurant with anyone except you. you were an amazing, special friend and i am humbled by the strength you had in life.
a visual shock... those four giant hoses running blood from your leg to your neck... but your mom gave me a quick lesson in ECMO technology. she's become an expert... i was impressed. your breathing was odd, there were tubes and needles on every visible part of your body, and clearly beneath the johnnies too. it took me a little while to understand how everything was connected, working, happening.
your parents were so strong, greg. we stood with you and exchanged stories and moments and loving words of your life, your passion for music, anime and computers, your sense of humor and your penchant for the understatement. Eine stayed with you the whole time, and i thought that would suit you just fine... since Batz Maru was no where to be found. iTunes kept belting out your favorite tunes.
ironically, you were the largest, oldest patient at Children's Hospital, yet their attendance to you was as loving and caring as it would be for a small, scared child. when it was time, the nurses sweetly, gently explained as they removed tape and tubes and machines from your body. 'it's alright.' 'you're ok.' 'everyone is here for you, greg.'
and we were. we were there so intensely for you, that the rest of the room fell away. we stood, your mom, dad, bucky and i with our hands on you, saying prayers with the hospital minister, who was cheeky and helpful. a favorite chant of mine bubbled out... these moments are bittersweet and soft and beautiful. we waited, holding space for you while you took your last labored breaths.
bucky felt your energetic body cease transmitting. i poured as much loving energy into you as i could to help your passage be smooth. we all had eachother's backs. i felt your appreciation and i was honored to be there for you and your family.
we toasted your name with spicy scallop roll and sake at that place we always went in harvard square. before that meal, i had never been to that restaurant with anyone except you. you were an amazing, special friend and i am humbled by the strength you had in life.
