How do you cope with pain this deep, how can life continue as it always has?
The insanity of her thoughts frightened her; the immensity of the hospital sobered her
What if her mom never left these walls, what if her beautiful brown eyes never saw her on her wedding day?
Outside the large hospital windows a beautiful fall day was coming to a close; the ground was an array of yellow, red, and orange
It had been a month of this, trips to the hospital after work
Sitting in silence next to her hospital bed, watching while she painfully slept
A month of ups and downs, of promises and pleading
A month of watching this scene from the waiting room window, long enough to pick a favorite seat
A month of watching other families cope with loss and celebrate victory, long enough to wonder what her mother's fate held
Mom couldn't talk now; there was a contraption of some sort that prevented anything but eye blinks and gurgles
How long would that last, would she ever hear her speak again?
A few days ago she had worn her hair in a ponytail, then spent fifteen minutes deciphering incoherent words from her mother
In the end her request was simple, wear your hair down
It was down today, a mass of curls that rippled down her back
Weeks before that when she had a voice, mom begged her to take her home
Wires were being unhooked and her mother's faded brown eyes were furious and demanding as she asked the impossible.
Thank God for big brothers, she remembered his strong hands removing her from her mother's bedside
And his stern voice telling mom that she could not go home, that she must settle down
Today had been a blur, "today I'm going to have the machines turned off"
Her dad had called her, "can you wait until after work"
"Five o' clock", the words were final
She knew this decision was hard, she could hardly be surprised
Her mom had begged for it to end, no more surgeries
"Okay mom, no more, one way or another you are done suffering", she managed not to break when she said those words
Someone was tapping her bringing her back to reality; it must be time to head back to the room
She won't feel anything; she may take moments or days to pass away
Sitting there amidst her brothers and father she held her mother's hand, prayed it would not last long
They doctors said she wouldn't, but she squeezed her hand
Not even an hour later, she was gone
There was a small sense of joy, knowing she was done hurting
But it was small and fleeting, overshadowed by the enormity of losing her
The sun was gone now; the walk to the car was silent except for the crunching of the leaves
These were the first steps of many, on the journey of living without her.
