I shall go visit the dying batard.
It has taken me a very long, sleepless night to make this decision. I couldn't figure out why it would be the right thing to do. There are plenty of reasons not to go:
- I don't like him.
- He chose to leave. Nobody forced him to go, he chose to abandon us.
- I'd probably be going there to mock him. That just isn't ok.
- I hate hospitals. Hell is one giant hospital with lots of pointy, sharp things and demonic nurses and evil-overlord doctors with silly facemasks and one eye bigger than the other.
- I owe him nothing, not even a visit on his death bed.
But maybe I do. Maybe seeing him dying there, half conscious, isn't about him. Perhaps saying goodbye to him is all about me (and remember, it's all about me!) and a sense of closure...
And then the bottom line is of course, it is the right thing to do. There is probably some small emotional attachment, either good or bad, between the two of us. I don't want there to be, but I'll just have to accept it.