Alabaster Shell - Poem
Letting Go, Not to Resuscitate

LETTING GO “He’s not  breathing,” my husband’s voice shattered the peace in the room at eight o’clock that Saturday morning. “What?” I replied sharply, as if what was happening was his fault because he was the one to notice it first. “Yes, he is,” I demanded with tenacity. I jumped up from my seat in the corner of the room…