Last Looks

We've spent a long and difficult night of waiting. For many hours, Judah's blood pressure dropped and hovered at 45/20. His pulse rate started at 91 bpm and began to drop at a rate of one point per hour. Around 3 am, Judah's blood pressure crashed completely. His heart rate dropped down to the 40's, and the shape of the heartbeats on his monitor changed radically, with the peaks and valleys spreading out into long, jagged lines. Mom was on his left, holding his head, Iss and I were just next to her holding his hand. Uncle Robby and Aunt Marsha were crying at his feet, and Grandpa held Judah's hand on the right. Judah's mouth made a rattling sound, like a marble in a tin cup. Thelma, his nurse, suctioned him right away. Mom was inconsolable.
Moments later, Judah's heart rate seemed to bounce back. His oxygenation seemed to revert back to normal. He looked for all the world like he was giving himself CPR. Judah's heart has not stopped beating yet. Still, the moment has passed. Now we are preparing his belongings to be moved out. We don't know how long he will continue to be "alive" like this, but we will stay here until his heart beats no more.
We cried so hard, and a moment later, we laughed at something silly. Still, the intensity of the moment was piercing. Mom wanted to be alone to grieve over Judah, but there were too many of us there. Too many bodies in her way. Too many voices crying. Too many hands on Judah's body. For the moment, she needed Judah to be hers and hers alone. I think this is something that many of us feel about Judah. He belongs to each of us in a unique way that others would never understand. Still, we cede to Mom, because he is hers, firstly.
Now we wait. We wait for the last embers to die down. Judah is taking his time, lingering for his last looks.