A year ago 9/15/2013 was a Sunday and right at this time I entered the bubble. I walked into the waiting room of the hospital, holding my sister’s hand, and was greeted by Dee, Brooks and a Priest tearfully telling us that we must hurry into the room as they were giving Dad his last rites. I remember holding my breath as I hurriedly put on the gown, mask and gloves they said we must wear and saying to myself “This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening”. I made eye contact with Andi above our masks and we simultaneously nodded and took a deep breath as we walked into the small room filled with machines and beeping noises. I instantly looked at my beloved Father lying in the bed and thought “That isn’t him”. He was like a shell of man, not my vibrant, loving, full of life Dad. I knew in my heart that he was not there. I held his hand as the Priest began to pray and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Dad, I am here. It’s Skunk. I love you”. I knew there would be no response and I did it more for me than for him. I talked to him a lot in the next 36 hours, probably more than he wanted me to. It felt so safe, calm and isolated with just the 4 of us in the room with him. It was our own safe bubble where we could cry, laugh and be with the man who defined who we were as family. People came and went, a steady stream of love and tears, but we never left his side. Though he had been given last rites and we knew what was stacked against him if by miracle he came out of the coma, as long as we were in the bubble and there was a glimmer of hope, we wanted to be there for him. On that Monday evening when we realized the inevitable we took his hands and held them and hoped that he could feel our love as we said goodbye. Not wanting to leave him or the bubble we had created we remained in the hospital a bit just catching our breath and figuring out what to do next. Trebor came to get us and we gratefully turned decision-making over to him. Yes, we would go home. Yes, he would make the phone calls. Yes, he would pick up breakfast. We left the bubble at about 6:30 in the morning and as we walked out into the bright sunshine of the morning I was shocked to see that life was going on as if nothing had happened. Didn’t these people scurrying about their business know that my world had just forever changed? We silently clung to each other as we stumbled into the car and drove away to try to make sense of our new normal. I want back in the bubble. Even knowing what would happen 36 hours later I want those quiet moments back when the only thing I had to worry about was making sure my Dad felt how much he was loved. I want back in the bubble. Andi? Brooks? Are you with me?