My heart beats as I think of his heart. His heart that’s not working so well any more as he lies there in hospital waiting. He’s waiting and we’re waiting for someone else’s heart; a stranger’s heart. My heart goes out to his family who’ve agreed at a time of pain that the heart can be separated from its owner to give life to my dad. My old dad, whose heart beats slower and slower. And I need to be there with him, heart to heart. I need to touch him, feel him, will his heart to work better. I need to believe in the new heart, a fresh heart will do the job, I know it will. I hold his hand, gently I press my chest against his and they take him away. Like a new battery, I think, simple as that, remove the old one, replace with new and it works again. Simple as that. Though it isn’t and it doesn’t.
Writer’s Notebook – a series of posts releasing unfinished fragments into the world. Recognising the value in sharing.