That day would be this day, because six years ago tonight Aaron died and all he left us was an empty shell of his body.
It was a long and quiet day, it did not go like it was supposed,
For Aaron was wheeled down to donate his organs but he did not die...
No, he did not die like he was supposed to.
They brought him back to his room, did not reconnect the ventilator,
His heart beat strong, his blood flowed throughout his body, his brain was dead.
His mom asked me to stay with him and to come get her when it starts.
Hour after
Hour after
Hour after
Hour.
His heart beat for almost twelve more hours and then it started to be like it was supposed to be.
A steady 125 beats.
Then 122.
Then 121.
Then 118.
And down it kept going. I went and got everyone.
I kept watching it because soon it would happen.
The 90's.
The 80's.
The 70's.
The 60's.
He was prepared through everyone who had spoken to him all five days.
His heart rate kept going down.
The 50's.
The 40's.
The 30's.
The 20's.
The finality of his life was almost here.
I watched until the end.
The 10's.
Then the nurse turned off the volume before it reached 0.
Grace.
Aaron was gone.
His heart stopped, his blood stopped, his brain eased, he wasn't with us anymore.
By God's grace, He's in Heaven.
Everyone was crying, crying loudly.
I did not feel sadness - I felt nothing.
I felt numb. I talked to my therapist and that didn't surprise her.
I sat there with the others, asking God what I could do.
"Just be silent and don't move until I tell you to."
I wanted to flee.
There's was nothing more to do.
Aaron would never come back to us.
That much I knew was true.
I stayed with his parents until the very end.
I made sure they were able to drive home.
Aaron, no longer alive, his body stayed in that room until it was brought to the funeral home.
I'd have one final good-bye.
All of us would.
The fifth and final day of Aaron's life: Aaron's Final Day
