I didn't understand

I didn't understand a murky mist of diaphanous shapes was filling my room, corralling my bed. Soooo tired; wanna sleep. I told them so. Umm, that feels good, so gentle; whooose hand is that on my forehead? Oh yes, keep moving it. Those fingers are so soft; maybe if I close my eyes, they will keep doing it. Yes, yes, keep it up. They stopped. Don't stop. Come back. That person over there is crying. I want to ask her why she is crying. My mouth is so dry; I really want to ask my questions. Oh yes, please, those ice chips, how wonderful that feels. The hand on my shoulder was not the same hand; the other felt better. Rub my forehead. I did that once for someone; who was it? Why did I do it? What should I say? Oh, that light shut the door, more of them now blurry, shapeless forms inundating the room, walls bulging out. Why are they here? It's moving this way; I feel it touching my hand.

I'll close my eyes; maybe they will go away. It's dark now. I see that thing I did. It went away for so many years. Now it's back. What can I do with it? Can I leave it here? Will it follow me? I will open my eyes. Maybe it will go away again. Good, it's gone. I don't want to take it with me. Lips are moving. Are they saying something? I wish I could understand; no one is smiling. Their eyes are glistening. They look sad. Do they know something I don't? What are they hiding? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Oh, that light again, shapes, must be people, keep coming and going. Don't they know it hurts me? I am so tired; I can't move; I am just here like a hollowed-out log. That hand is back, the good one, so gentle, four fingers floating over my forehead with the touch of a cloud. It was my mother; I had stroked her forehead. Why did I do that? Oh no, it's back, no, it's something else; I did that too, didn't I? Two things, why do they come back now? Go away, Go away, pleeeese go away. Why are my lips stuck together? More ice chips, please. They don't hear me. Daddy, would you like a tickle rub? Remember when I was little, I would lie on my stomach, and you would ever so lightly barely make contact with your fingertips and run them over my back? It was so relaxing, I always fell asleep. Lips pull apart, affirming an unseen smile. Yes, tickle rub, please. Fingers ever so gentle, tracing pathways up my arms and around my chin, cheeks, and forehead. I close my eyelids to joy in the gentle touch. Now I remember my mother was dying, and now I understand …. DARK