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61 - The Waiting Game

Seventy-four hours. Four thousand four hundred minutes. Two hundred and sixty-six thousand seconds. That's how long it's been since nonno was brought to the hospital, and how long we have been waiting for him to recover. He had suffered a second, more serious, attack shortly after arrival and while the doctors had been able to restart his heart, he had yet to recover consciousness. We were taking it in turns to sit by his bedside, never leaving him alone for even one of those two hundred and sixty-six thousand seconds, lest he should wake and find no one he loved there with him.

Right now it's my turn; I've been here for ninety-five minutes, holding his hand and talking to him about all manner of things. I'd brought my Yankees baseball cap and put it on his head for a while, talking about the games we used to watch together and how the team were doing this season. I brought him up to date on how wedding preparations were going and sang him a little of a song I had half composed before he ended up here. I reminisced about when he had given me my first guitar and taught me how to play, and in those five thousand seven hundred seconds he had given no clue that he'd heard me – no flicker of his eyes or flutter of movement in the fingers I held so hopefully.

"So you need to wake up soon, nonno. Nonna needs you...I need you; we have a date for you to walk me down the aisle, remember? You're going to wear a fine suit with a new tie and you'll look so handsome, you'll turn nonna's head and she'll fall in love with you all over again. I know you're sad about..." I couldn't bring myself to say the words 'my father' so I used his name instead. "About Niccolo, but nonna is sad too and she needs you; she has all of us, but she needs you. Won't you wake up for her? Please."

Hearing the swish of the door, I turned my head to find my uncle Tito arriving. "Ciao, Cara."

"Ciao, zio." We hugged and I reported no change as he settled himself in the chair I had been occupying. I took the cap off nonno and sat it beside him, asking him to keep it safe for me, kissed him goodbye then made my way out of the hospital, turning my phone back on as I exited the building. It rang two minutes later.

"He's still the same," I told Tony without him having to ask.

"Okay," he sighed. "Cara...papa arrives this afternoon." Our father's body was being sent here from Italy so he could be buried in the family plot. I knew that Tony and some of my uncles and aunts would be there to meet the flight and take his casket to the funeral home. We were delaying holding a service in the hopes that nonno would recover and be able to attend. "I just thought you should know."

I nodded before realising the futility of it. "All right. Thanks." I had no idea what else to say.

"I think Sophia and Al are taking nonna to the funeral home tonight to see him, then to the hospital to visit nonno."

About to nod again, I remembered in time and made a grunt-like noise instead. Tony knew I wouldn't be making that visit – in fact, there'd been times in the past few days when I'd pondered whether or not I would even attend the funeral. Although Dr Thompson, Head Cardiothoracic Surgeon, had said nonno's heart had been weak for a while and his attack could have happened at any time, I was harbouring resentment against my father for causing it; I churlishly considered it his final act of selfishness, to die and trigger his own father's heart attack. It might be unreasonable, but grief and pain rarely listen to reason, I'd discovered.

Soft pips sounding told me another calling was coming in, so I bid my brother farewell and answered it.

"Darling, how was your visit? How's nonno?"

My heart lifted slightly hearing Ben's voice. "He's exactly the same."

"I'm sorry, love." Suddenly I longed for his arms around me and to hear his strong heart beating reassuringly beneath my ear. "How are you?"