deeples

Yeah, I know.  You don’t watch ER anymore.  You watched it in high school/college/prison and you are over the time in your life, now.

I’m not really interested in your claims that it just wasn’t as good after [George Clooney/Noah Wiley/Anthony Edwards] left the show.   I don’t care that the brief sprint of psychosis that was John Leguizamo didn’t really make sense and never resolved itself and it was just strange that he became a criminal.   Or.. or…. that Abby drunkenly slept with Lucien (FUCKING LUCIEN – ARE YOU KIDDING ME?) whilst married to Super Hotness Personified, Luka.  Or.. or.. you know, that whole weird thing about Morris being a sperm-donor and all those little red-headed kids running around?  I mean, what was THAT?

For sure, there was weirdness and if not blatant shark-jumping there was at least some sharks being nudged with their collective County General big toe.

But….. Pratt?

I am telling you that the moment he knew… KNEW… he was going to die and they were all in a flurry around him with machines beeping and people yelling – moving at lightening speed and in slow motion all at once—  it just undid me.

They were so desperate to save him, they couldn’t SEE him and he just… knew.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He could hardly breathe and you could see it in his eyes as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud that he knew he was going to die.  And the camera pans slowly, to soft music to his face and you see the tears fall from his eyes… and his family was right there – RIGHT THERE – and yet he was totally alone because no one in that room stopped and looked in his eyes and said,

“I know you know.  I’ll be here with you.”

Kory was cleaning the kitchen.  The dishwasher was running, the water was on, he was moving pots and pans around… and there was a sudden lull in the kitchen noise and that’s when he heard me crying in the living room.  Hiccuping. Sniffling. My throat bursting with trying to keep it in.

He came in the room, moving fast.

“Oh honey… oh baby…” and he folds me into his arms and I try to laugh and joke about my tears, something about being pregnant or blah, blah about hormones… but when he hugged me, I really let it out and I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

I know Mekhi Phifer is alive and well, but I cried for Greg Pratt and how all his strength and honor and fortitude couldn’t save him, in the end.

And I cried for anyone, trapped in a body that can’t communicate… eyes searching the room for someone to see… someone to acknowledge their leaving and their knowing.

Please, if that day comes for me, please hold my hand and look me in the eye and even if it makes you scream – I want you to say it.

“I know you know.  I’ll be here with you.”