As soon as we walked into his room (the third one since he’s been there) I knew something was terribly wrong.

A nurse was feeding him and he was gibbering away about spies, strange machines, and other sorts of nonsense. His hands shook as he plucked at his hospital gown and he looked years older, thinner, and not like himself at all.

My heart shattered. I couldn’t stay in the room with him for more than a few minutes at a time, I’d have to go out into the hall and cry.

Dad is gone, Mom is gone, and three sisters are also gone. The Curmudgeon is an only child and his parents are also gone.

Again, my heart shatters.

I didn’t know I could cry so much.

I didn’t know I could feel so alone.

I didn’t know that I could feel so lost in a room with people.

I don’t think he’s coming home.