Life support is the magic of machines, panels of blinking lights, graphs and beeps. It’s the soft swish-wish, swish-wish that sings quietly in the room.
Life support is pressing “pause” on our lives while we wait. Not being able to re-wind and not sure what pressing play will bring. Not sure we want to fast forward at all.
Life support is the strength of family as we sit together and keep the fibres of our shared tapestry tightly woven.
Life support is making a lonely waiting place your own as those before you did.
Life support is rushing to feed another machine because the parking-lot police don’t press pause just because we need to be there.
Life support is a Facebook post asking for prayers for a friend and prayers sent from a Slovakian family with love.
Life support is leaning on dear sisters-in-law who are more your sisters than if by blood.
Life support is having cherished nieces always be so.
Life support is more than machines. It is shared fears, anger, sadness, helplessness and most of all hope. And this week I saw just how powerful shared hope can be.