My breath was stolen right out of me as I walked into the hospital room; each gulp of air deepened in order to restrain the tears that tempted to fall. Engulfed by medical equipment I barely recognized the man in front of me; stumbling to the back of the room I looked around to the grief stricken faces of his loved ones. But, out of everyone my attention focused greatly on the one I loved, who was watching his dad battle for his life right in front him.

I couldn’t take it. The pain of watching someone I deeply cared for, be reduced to tears as I stood helplessly watching from the sidelines. Unable to find the words needed to bring upon even the smallest fragment of comfort.

But what could I have possibly said? Everything will be okay? Things will work out in the end? I’m sure he’ll pull through? No. There was no way that I could bring myself to lie to his face, as I put on a convincing smile and a reassuring hug. Why? Simply because I didn’t know if everything would turn out okay, I had no idea if things were really going to work out in the end, and when I saw his father with his face sunken in, pale with suddenly graying hair, limbs feeble to any touch, and eyes that spoke for themselves, saying that even he didn’t know if he would pull through.

It all began when the flu worsened to pneumonia, and the virus had rapidly gained control over his dad, James. The grip of disease never loosened as things started to shut down; failing kidneys and insufficient lungs were just the beginning of what had to be endured. For the chance to bring back the once lively man that everyone’s prayers were going out to, a constant flow of tests, drugs, and treatments were attempted.

I was aware that I wasn’t immediate family, yet they all still gave me the opportunity to be alongside the fight, and that was a privilege in itself. Yet, still speechless by the events that had unfolded, I barely found the words to comfort my love. Was there anything to possibly say to someone on the verge of losing their father?

With each day that passed all anyone could do was to keep faith within his dad, but the news was hardly reassuring. Making an effort to keep my composure in respect to all those who held him dearest, I couldn’t hold back my thoughts as I mulled over the fact that none of it was fair. It was almost cruel; all that my boyfriend wanted as a child was the love and attention of his father, yet when he finally receives it maybe only two years prior, it gets taken away.

The weight in my loves heart was apparent; the health of his father would slightly improve just for it to drop soon after, it was a cold-hearted game of faith. Then, as months passed his father’s health began spiraling further down. It was about time to decide whether it was right to let him go. Being a part of the group responsible for such a decision, my boyfriend pleaded for a miracle.