It was three pages, a home health report

A few black-ink words on white paper

It was short, just a simple fax

I nearly missed it when skimming but was then taken aback

It stuck with me later

Listed beneath the vital signs: “no blood pressure, no pulse, no respirations”

Was I reading it right?

I envisioned her lifeless body

I sat in a state of deflation

Never mind that reading obituaries is a hobby

I don’t know that I ever let stage 4 sink in

But over a few months I observed her get so thin

And reside behind pale skin

So many hospital trips for one not feeling well

Death lurks in the corners but never does tell

Hope hovers like a feather

With this simple report mine took flight

I knew she wouldn’t get better

No blood pressure, no pulse, no respirations that night

I remember the last thing she said to me

Two simple words from a tired soul

They rang like a melody

A simple refusal to let bitterness take hold

And I didn’t know her hardly or for long

But her effect on me was so strong

As she was pumped with poison

Even as the bad cells divided

The entire way she was whisperin’

“Thank you”

I was enlightened

With your pulse, your blood pressure, your respiration

What are you going to do?

Your heartbeat, your blood flow, your breath is making an eternal reputation