that last visit was a bad one. it was a bad day for her, that's all. there was a 'procedure', followed by lots of pain, and crying and i knew we were sailing right up to the edge. she was getting so tired. Then i went to New York for a week, to work, and I was so twisted the whole time I was there, I couldn't enjoy my time off. The last day I had I bolted from all company and took the ferry to the statue of liberty. It was an out of character move, but after waiting for the hotel phone to ring in the middle of the night, constantly expecting the message light to blink at me, I felt the need to go and be a sheep. On the ferry some English people insisted on taking my picture with my camera because I was alone. I felt very random, and it was very random, and I was alone. I didn't even go into the statue. I walked round it, and took pictures of other people taking pictures of other people. Then I went to the gift shop, with an urge to blow all of my money on tat. My eye fell on the jigsaw, small, 48 pieces, your basic statue picture. But she loved jigsaws. I knew she would might not be able to do it, but I bought it anyway, because I knew she would appreciate it. The thought. When I flew back I had a cold, which meant I had to stay away from the hospital - no visits allowed while germy. The weekend came and I promised myself I'd take the jigsaw in then. But on Saturday, in the middle of the night, the call came - the good call, the call where they found her new lungs and a heart. We waited. I tried to get it to her, but he said I should give it to her myself, when I saw her. We waited for her to be strong enough for visitors, but she never was.
I regret my continued ownership of a small jigsaw of the statue of liberty.
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