69 - The Ethics of Care

By the second year of caring for my brother, 

a question began to haunt me. 

Not in daylight, but in the hours when silence pressed against my chest

Is it right to keep someone alive against their will?

It is not a question with answers. 

It is a question that lingers, 

like smoke that refuses to clear. 

Even now, I believe there is no resolution. 

Only the weight of asking.

I imagined the hospital bed, 

the machines breathing for someone with little chance of waking. 

A body tethered to a life support

Would you keep them here and prolong the suffering,

or would you let them rest in peace?

I chose not to let go. 

And that choice left its mark

not a scar that heals, 

but a taste that never fades. 

A bitterness that sits at the back of the tongue,

reminding me of what mercy might have been.

In my darkest hours, 

I still wonder

What if? 

 What if I had chosen differently? 

What if love had meant release, 

instead of prolonging suffering?

That thought frightens me most. 

Because the choices were not gentle shades of grey.

They were extremes

life stretched into pain, 

or death embraced in silence.

And I stood between them, 

holding on, 

mortgaging my soul to keep him breathing.