I know how the smell of the corridor smells like...
The medicine-filled air, that smells of loneliness and hopelessness....
Anyone that walked thru' this corridor usually am sad or at the very least worried...
But of course some of them , at the end of the ordeal, came out as a happy one.
I was there 3-4 days in a row, always there for more than 12 hours each day, by the side of my dying father...
Hoping that he would pull thru, be fine and don't leave us...
In the end, off he went, after midnight, in my arms... I watched him pass me by, to another world...
I knew he had his wishes fulfilled, he saw my mum before he left... and that to him, is the final piece to his jigsaw puzzle and so off he went, without anymore regrets...
Off he went.... and so too does the smell of the corridor of the hospital....
(just watched this documentary last night which detailed how these volunteers help out in the hospice and I remembered clearly what one of them said, "Its a matter of time before they go, we just doing what we could to carry out their last wishes, to help them walk their remaining journey in this world"
The show certainly remind me much of my dad who had passed away...)
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