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Disconnect

7 Jun

Disconnected

Photograph Feel Pain by Mehmet Turgut

 

 

Hello! Welcome to my blog. My name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega, for those of you visiting for the first time. I am a writer of Fantasy, Horror, Suspense and Thrillers. I do, however, have a tendency to mix a little Romance and humor (among other genres) into my stories.
I love art, creativity and beauty, and I know these come in many forms. In my quest to build my author platform, I have met and befriended a group of incredibly talented individuals. Writers, poets, bloggers, artists, photographers and even singers who are masterful at what they do. I feel blessed to have found them, and I would be selfish if I kept the beauty, artistry and creativeness of their craft all to myself.
So for the next few weeks I will be featuring their art, writings, photography and music along with my own work on this blog. I guarantee you will enjoy every bit of it.
In today’s post I will feature the talented writer and poet Glendon Perkins.

 

 

Glendon wrote this piece when he was struggling with a major decision in his life. His writing touched me deeply, as I am sure it will touch you.

photo

 

 

 

Disconnect

by Glendon Perkins

The nurse walked in, said to me, “It’s time.”

My shoulders slumped. I drew in a deep breath, held it, and let it out slow. If I could have prevented the moment by holding my breath, I would have.

I followed the nurse through the door and down the hall. While I followed her through the constricting corridors, I focused on the carpet. There was consistency in the bluish-gray carpet; no change. Soon everything would change.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

I hesitated, trying to find the right words. Were there words that could convey how I felt? I’m not sure. I decided a simple response was best. “No.”

“We could try some other things.” Her face was drawn, as though she’d had a long night as well. “I know we could approach the doctor and find something or someone. We could contact Mayo or Johns Hopkins.” Her voice cracked a few times

I read clearing your throat helps to keep the tears from coming. I cleared my throat, my tears stayed back. “I…I…I th—think it’s b—best if w—w—we don’t.” Covering my mouth, looked away.

She hugs me. We stood embracing for several minutes. I broke away first.  Time to finish this.

We walked the rest of the way in silence. My emotions were wound as tight as a guitar string, and the slightest plucking would send me into a chorus of tears.

She stopped in the doorway. Pointing at a laptop on a stand she said, “Just press the DISCONNECT button. I’ll leave you with him.” She gave my forearm a pat and a squeeze before walking away.

Despite the warmth of the room, I felt like I had walked into an icebox. Shivers raced across my body, my blood cold, my heart solid ice.

I felt cruel. Was I the Reaper, the Angel of Death? Wasn’t I about to do what he did?

I walked further into the room, making a wide birth around the laptop. I looked up at the life support monitors. Several lines showed vital functions with jagged peaks and valleys. Some consistently moved up and down, others were furious with activity, their readings jumbled and mismatched.

A web of wires and tubes crossed each other and meandered around stainless steel poles and computer monitors. A respirator with a white corrugated tube led to the intubation line. White adhesive patches connected his damaged brain to the EEG machine with wires of several colors. The room smells of copper wire and plastic from life-supporting devices.

I approached his bed with trepidation and sat on the edge. He lay in a beige hospital gown, blankets tucked neatly around his waist. Clear tape secured the IV catheters to his wrists. The intubation tube connected to the tracheotomy.

I wrapped my fingers his hand, “Dad, I…” The words lodged in my throat.

Wiping my eyes and running nose with my forearm, I found the strength to continue. “The doctors don’t think anything can be—”

I broke down in rivulets of tears, every pent up emotion over the last three months pouring down my face, my head bobbing with each sob.

I was about to turn off machines that kept my father alive. Would I ever find peace again? Would I wake up every night screaming in the darkness? Would every look I received on the street, at work, or from my family and friends be anything but contempt? Worse, what if my dad lay there getting better and the doctors couldn’t see it? Would my dad forgive me? Would he look at me from the Afterlife and ask me, “How could you?”

As my contemplation threatened to destroy me, a voice from the past spoke up.  “Son, I don’t want machines to keep me alive. I am going to trust your decision. Give me peace when I need it.”

I choked back my despair. I whispered in his ear, “Dad, I came here to give you peace. I love you.”

Looking at his face, I wondered if he heard me.

I stood, walked over to the laptop, and stared at the screen for a moment. I raised my had to the keyboard, fingers shaking, palms sweating. I slowly lowered my fingers to the mousepad…I pushed DISCONNECT.

I walked back to the chair and sat down. I rested my head on his chest, placed his hand on my face, and felt his pulse and respirations slow, “I love you, Dad. May you be at peace.”

Would I ever have peace?

~by Glendon Perkins

 

Please check out Glendon’s links below, and if you like smart Horror with lots of suspense, thrills and chills, you’ll love Glendon’s blog novel Buried Alive. It is a must-read for all you Horror fans out there!

http://www.glendonperkins.com

http://www.glendonperkins.blogspot.com

http://twitter.com/glenperk

Father_and_son_by_Gloredel

Photograph by Marie Gloredel 

 

 

Father

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

His brown eyes deepened into polished onyx, and upon them came a mist of tears.

He watched with the facade of a brave man as his baby boy entered the world.

As if his mind and body were not consumed by overwhelming fears.

What are my duties? There are no guidelines. Where do I start?

The babe in his arms felt so natural, yet so alien. A fire blazed in his chest.

“You are a father now.” The words were jolting, yet pleasing to his heart.

*

His brown eyes deepened into polished onyx, and upon them came a mist of tears.

He watched with the façade of a calm man as his son toddled, taking his first steps.

As if his mind and body were not consumed by overwhelming fears.

What if he falls? What if he hurts himself? Then I would have failed as a father.

The toddler tottered to him and embraced his dad with dulcet giggles.

As he held his son, it did not feel alien. His heart gave way for love to conquer.

*

His brown eyes deepened into polished onyx, and upon them came a mist of tears.

He watched with the façade of a cool man as his son introduced him to his first girl.

As if his mind and body were not consumed by overwhelming fears.

What if he falls in love? What if she breaks his heart?

He embraced his son and slipped extra cash in his pocket.

As he held his son, it felt like love, and he rested assured his son was smart.

*

His brown eyes deepened into polished onyx, and upon them came a mist of tears.

He watched with the façade of a brave man as his son grew and had sons of his own.

As if his mind and body were not consumed by overwhelming fears.

Did I raise him right? Did I teach him to be a good husband and father?

He embraced his son, and they were swathed by the love they both felt.

As he held his son, his questions were answered, and he grew calmer.

*

His son’s brown eyes deepened into polished onyx, and upon them came a mist of tears.

He watched his father wear the façade of a spent man as he lay on a hospital bed.

His son’s mind and body were consumed by overwhelming fears.

Am I doing the right thing? Who am I to decide when his time has come?

His face dampened with sorrow. He embraced his father.

As he held his father’s weary body and gazed into his dimming eyes, his questions were answered, and he grew calmer.

*

His brown eyes deepen into polished onyx, and upon them comes a mist of tears.

He watches with the façade of a pitiful man as his son reaches for that plug.

He is ready to leave this world and grateful his son has let go of his fears.

As his son holds his ruined body, and he feels the lifeblood drain from his eyes, he knows he has raised him right.

His mind and body are consumed with overwhelming love.

His son has given him the gift of peace, and his happy spirit travels toward the light.

~by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

46 Responses to “Disconnect”

  1. Justin Michael Schmidt June 8, 2013 at 12:27 am #

    Oh, man… I had read Glendon Perkins’ Disconnect, but when I read your poem to accompany it, I was blown away… Considering I lost my father, this touched me deeply… Good job, Vashti 🙂

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 8, 2013 at 1:49 am #

      Oh Justin, I’m so sorry about your dad. Thank you so much for stopping by and for the sweet words. Hugs and kisses.

      Like

  2. now at home mom June 8, 2013 at 1:17 am #

    beautiful, I enjoyed reading today’s post! I kept wondering who was in that room and then wondering how painful and difficult it must be for someone to push a button under those circumstances. It’s difficult but it’s also something his father would’ve wanted.

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 8, 2013 at 1:36 am #

      Thank you so much! It was a very painful situation. I felt the pain in his words. Thank you for stopping by and for your comment. I really appreciate your support. 😀

      Like

    • glenperk June 11, 2013 at 1:00 am #

      Rest assured, that although I did actually go through most of that scenario, I didn’t have to push any buttons. It felt so real to me, I shed many tears while writing it. Thank you for reading.

      Glen

      Like

  3. glenperk June 8, 2013 at 3:48 am #

    Wow, Vashti, I loved the creativity with your poem. The way you went full circle from birth to death was incredible. And the way you painted the picture of the different stages of life were remarkable.

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 8, 2013 at 7:03 am #

      Thank you Glen. I was inspired by your story. It really touched me. Thank you for the collaboration.

      Like

  4. petercwhitaker June 8, 2013 at 8:03 am #

    These are both powerful pieces, made all the more resonant by having, as a reader, similar experience.

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 10, 2013 at 6:58 pm #

      Thank you so much Peter. I’m sorry you had to go through this experience. It’s got to be one of the most difficult experiences anyone has to endure. I hope our work was able to give you a little peace.

      Like

    • glenperk June 11, 2013 at 1:01 am #

      Peter, thank you for the kind words. I am sorry you had to go through a similar experience.

      Like

  5. Alana Munro June 8, 2013 at 8:30 am #

    Awesome work, I really loved reading Glen’s story – I’ve read it before. It is very touching. And so clever how you have added to this with a clever poem. Very beautiful work. I have shared on twitter etc. 🙂

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 8, 2013 at 5:37 pm #

      Thank you Alana! Glendon’s story is touching and heart-wrenching and it totally inspired my piece. 😀

      Like

    • glenperk June 13, 2013 at 4:04 pm #

      Alana, thank you for reading again. I’m glad when something has enough pull to be read more than once. And Vashti’s poem is incredibly clever.

      Like

  6. ajwrites57 June 8, 2013 at 4:28 pm #

    I have commented on the love and angst of death expressed in Glen’s story in the past. I shook with emotion the first time I read it. The universality of the themes of father and son, life and death are carried out so wonderfully here.

    The cycle of life and death is powerful in its own terms, but Vashti, you have added a layer of beauty and strength, fragility and power, love and faith, finality and powerlessness to the expression of this cycle.

    Congratulations to you both! Thanks for sharing!

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 10, 2013 at 6:53 pm #

      Thank you very much Al. I am so happy you liked Glendon’s story and my poem. I’m honored.

      Like

    • glenperk June 11, 2013 at 1:03 am #

      AJ, thanks again for reading this story. I’m thinking your reply is more elegant than my story. I am happy to have Vashti collaborate with another poem, a version of the cycle.

      Like

  7. S. D. Keeling June 8, 2013 at 6:36 pm #

    I found your blog through the WLC Blog Follows on the World Literary Cafe! Great to connect! I’m at http://www.sdkeeling.com. I look forward to reading your posts!

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 10, 2013 at 6:50 pm #

      Thank you Sharon! I’m glad you stopped by. I will be checking out your site soon. 😀

      Like

  8. Cleopatra Trevilcock June 9, 2013 at 10:35 pm #

    I’ve read beautiful poems but when the author is this fabulous woman, I was deeply touched. Thank you; how often we take our loved ones for granted and fail to thank them enough.

    Like

  9. Rayona June 10, 2013 at 9:33 pm #

    I am absolutely blown away by this poem. I will be following your work from now on. xx

    Like

  10. gigi June 11, 2013 at 3:10 am #

    you are truly a lovely writer! thanks for stopping by my blog and leaving your lovely comment! xx. gigi. food and beauty blogger @ http://www.gigikkitchen.blogspot.com

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 18, 2013 at 2:45 am #

      Thank you very much Gigi! I appreciate you stopping by and leaving me your kind words. I hope you continue to visit. 😀

      Like

  11. lisanewlin June 11, 2013 at 3:48 am #

    I had no idea this post would be so moving! Both Glendon’s piece and then your poem. Both were so moving and together were brilliant.

    I can’t imagine ever having to be in that position, and I hope I don’t have to be. I know both of my parents would want that, but I just can’t imagine it. I’m glad I wouldn’t have to be the one physically doing the disconnecting, although giving the order is essentially the same thing.

    This was incredibly well written and powerful. Kudos to both of you.

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 11, 2013 at 4:10 am #

      Thank you very much Lisa. I too think about this from time to time because like your parents mine want the same thing too. It is hard to imagine. Thank you so much for stopping by. I appreciate your comment. ❤

      Like

    • glenperk June 13, 2013 at 3:21 am #

      Thank you, Lisa. When this very subject was brought to my attention I acted tough. But I was scared out of my mind. I finally let it all loose one afternoon and this story was born.

      Glen

      Like

      • lisanewlin June 13, 2013 at 5:38 am #

        Well I’m glad you were able to get it out on paper/computer screen. It was beautiful and touching and well written.

        Like

  12. poemsandpeople June 11, 2013 at 1:41 pm #

    I absolutely adore it, the poem seems to be a direct corollary of the story and corroborates all the emotions and sentiments pertaining to it. Fortunately, I have not felt the loss of any pedagogic or progenic element of my life, and thus unfortunately, I can not venture to write any further on both these efforts. To me, both the aforedisplayed works are wonderful and quite moving.

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 11, 2013 at 7:34 pm #

      Thank you so much!This means a great deal coming from a great poet and writer such as yourself. I appreciate you taking the time to stop by and your comment. 😀

      Like

  13. Sunni Morris June 12, 2013 at 4:52 am #

    I have nominated you for a blog award on my blog post tomorrow. Please go here for the rules and the blog badge. http://sunni-survivinglife.blogspot.com/

    Take the award that is appropriate, or use both accordingly.

    Liebster – for 200 followers or less
    Very inspiring – for anyone of the nominees.

    Sunni

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 12, 2013 at 4:22 pm #

      Sunni! That’s so wonderful. Thank you so much! This really means a lot to me. I will check out your site immediately. 😀

      Like

  14. Jessica June 13, 2013 at 2:21 am #

    Hi Vashti,

    What a touching post by Glendon. I was in tears! Just to go through the emotion of having to be the one to disconnect would be a terrible feeling. Thank you for introducing us to Glendon at My Favorite Posts SHOW OFF Weekend Blog Party!

    Jessica
    The Wondering Brain

    Like

    • glenperk June 13, 2013 at 3:17 am #

      Jessica, thank you. I’m going to a party? Yay!

      Like

      • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 13, 2013 at 4:08 am #

        Glen, you’ve already been there. Did you have too much rum again? Haha!

        Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 13, 2013 at 4:03 am #

      Hi Jessica! I had the same reaction when I first read his story. It is a very difficult situation. I was happy to introduce Glendon to the girls. I’ll see you at the next Blog Party! Thank you for stopping by.

      Like

  15. Holly June 13, 2013 at 2:46 pm #

    A very touching story by Glendon. I know how hard it is to say goodbye to family, but can’t imagine that kind of responsibility.

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 13, 2013 at 3:52 pm #

      It is difficult to imagine unless you’re in the situation. I think it was brave of Glendon to write it all down and share it with us. I appreciate your comment. Thank you Holly.

      Like

    • glenperk June 13, 2013 at 3:58 pm #

      Holly, thank you. It was definitely a difficult situation to agree to, but thankfully I haven’t had to perform such a task yet. That being said, my mind struggled with the idea of being responsible I finally had to write about it.

      Like

  16. cicampbell2013 June 15, 2013 at 10:05 am #

    I had read Glendon’s story before and thought it was terrific. To read it again with your poem was very moving. Such a. Good idea to post them together. Well done, Vashti.

    Like

  17. Evelyn @ My Turn for us June 17, 2013 at 3:56 pm #

    Enjoying following you via Bloglovin’

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 18, 2013 at 2:22 am #

      Thank you very much Evelyn! I will always try to keep your interest. 😀

      Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega June 18, 2013 at 2:25 am #

      Hi Evelyn! I’m so glad you’re enjoying my blog. I will always try to keep your interest.

      Like

  18. Joy @ Yesterfood September 16, 2013 at 6:18 pm #

    I’m so glad you shared this at the 10th Blogiversary party I am cohosting. Powerful stuff. A terrible responsibility, but I definitely want someone to do it for me. This is why we make it really clear to our loved ones what we want.

    Like

    • Vashti Quiroz-Vega September 16, 2013 at 6:44 pm #

      Thank you Joy! I agree, it is a terrible responsibility, but it’s made easier if the person knows that it is exactly what you want. 🙂

      Like

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  1. My Favorite Posts SHOW OFF Weekend Blog Party | Epic Mommy Adventures - December 17, 2013

    […] Vashti’s Blog featured one of her favorite writers on Disconnect.  Ever wondered how you would teach your child the value of money? Here’s one way with Music Teaching and Parenting.  […]

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