Slow Death...

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So here I stand. At the Kalaupapa visiting station. Department of Health rules make it against the law for us to touch. After my long arduous journey here to come see my beautiful child. Violently ripped from our family by the long arm of the law. You stand with your afflicted companions. Cursed with a severely disfiguring painful and terminal disease. I stand here with the loved ones of your fellow patients. We stand and stare at each other as we quietly sob. I want to touch you again. I want to hug you again. I want to kiss you again. I want to run my fingers through your hair again. I want you to feel the love of your family again, who couldn't all be here. I want to absorb your pain and despair, my poor beloved precious child. I can't touch you again. I can't hug you again. I can't kiss you again. I can't run my fingers through your hair again. I can't let you feel the love of your family again. I can't absorb your pain and despair, my poor beloved precious child. You are the one that has been diagnosed with this hellish disease. I've already died, my child. I'm already dead...

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