The ringing of the phone in total darkness. the flashing of the mobile screen.
Knowing who it is as you answer. the drive in near darkness, with terminator precision guiding you past the other traffic. Cutting a dash and trying to decided in passing if Chris Moyles is annoying or playing to type.
Wondering if you'd listen to Chris Evans if the music weren't so dire. Wandering if you could splice Xfms musiic into a combo of the other two to create the perfect before sunrise drive time ensemble.
Arriving in well under the time a law abiding driver would take.
To see the truth of the matter:
there is nothing gentle about this going in that to good night.
it will be a rasping contorted experience in torture for both the nearly departed and the loving supporting family.
The body, what little flesh remains and the enormous will to power it strive ever onwards in what is now definitely a losing battle that won't even really be interspersed with even momentary flashes of the incredible person that lays within, somewhere.
Now is the time of strange sponge lollies for moisture and minute adjustments of medication that comes in glass vials and is continuously delivered via a needle driver, providing only amusement for the cat for whom the tiny white tubing still brings on the kitten.
While the rest of us wait.
and yet somehow, in the face of this, I am still expecting it to prove to have been some ghastly mistake all along. He will sit up and tell me we're all going on safari this summer and that I should come home and live with my Mummy and my Daddy (which was the long standing threat if I ever moaned about city life and being a grown up... the coming home bit, not the going on safari).
I realise it won't happen but still. The power of imaginings is strong at these times.
Peace out people.
I hope your nearest and dearest are in fine health and remain so for many a long year.