"Flavored Disposable Oral Swab"

... not the most glamorous sounding nor the most aesthetic. But that little cellaphane wrapped pink foam on a stick  is something that has tied me forever to my dad's last few days on the earth. 

 On Saturday, November 30th, 2013 I rode with my dad to the hospital in an ambulance. I had never ridden with him before, but felt so strongly compelled to this time. We were taken into the emergency room and as we waited for the doctor to make a decision on whether or not to admit dad, he complained of having a very dry mouth. He was thirsty. For reasons that only they know of, he was not allowed a drink, but he was offered this.This pink swab. Dip it in water and it becomes the stream in the desert, the balm to a parched mouth. I dipped it and swabbed the inside of his mouth, running it between his teeth and his gums as he murmured his appreciation around its spongy tip. "Do you want me to save it"? I asked half heartedly hearing the foolishness of my own question echo in dad's response; "no! I don't want it again! Throw it away!" And so, I did. About half an hour later as a decision was made and dad was admitted, it was time to take him up to his room. As we were leaving (I always walked with them as they took him to his room, always) I picked up this extra swab, the one in this picture. "Oh, they will bring him more" was the nurse's response when he saw me pick it up. "I know, but it won't be for awhile, and dad will need it before they bring one to him", I replied as I tucked the swab in my purse. The nurse looked at me with a somewhat sad smile and responded; "you've been here too many times, you know the hospital too well". I agreed. Together we walked pushing dad in his bed to what would turn out to be his final hospital room. His needs were taken care of so quickly and efficiently, I forgot about that tiny pink swab. A few days later, 4 to be exact, I came home with his things, but without him. I was devastated and was looking for something in my purse when I found it, that spongy pink swab buried, forgotten. And I cried. I cried because I wished he were still here to need it. I cried because not even a week earlier he had needed and even welcomed it. I cried because I missed him. Today I cry because I still miss him terribly. The little pink swab a reminder of his thirst; for not only a drink, but for life. He was thirsty because he had life. I don't know that I'll ever throw it away. 

I know it sounds crazy, but it keeps me connected to the time between dads life and death, time connected by a "Flavored Disposable Oral Swab".