So this was written really fast so I apologize for any errors. But yes modern day Phillip's death from Eliza's perspective. Hope you enjoy!
No.
No no no no no!
I screamed out into the dead air. My voice echoing on all sides of me, as if I needed to be reminded how alone I was.
No!
It's not real!
Don't look down!
The wall ahead of me was white and plain, with no charts, or blood, or dead eyes staring up into me. A good place to rest my eyes until I woke up.
I sank down into the seat next to the bed, which moments ago had held a warm body.
No, still held a warm body. Still! This is a dream!
Maybe tomorrow we could all go for a picnic in the park like we used to when he was young, when he would scrape his knee on the cement and beg me to kiss it.
"I'm so sorry Mrs. Hamilton but we're going to have to take him away now."
"Take-" My mouth felt parched, how long had I sat here? "Take him away?" The doctor solemnly nodded his head.
"Alrighty then." I quickly said and placed a kiss onto my hand and then onto his forehead. The wheels under the bed squeaked as they started to take him- take my son out of the room.
My son.
"No." I mumbled. "No!" I ran to catch up to the bed pushing away the doctors on either side and pulling down the sheet to see his face.
"My son!" I ran my fingers through his long hair, which I always told him to cut. My tears started to pepper the beauty of his face and I quickly brushed them away. My son!
My son is dead!
"Did you know he got a scholarship to Columbia? He was supposed to go in the fall. He was going to become an author." I deliriously mumbled to the doctor, a warm hand graced my shoulder.
"Eliza…"I shrugged off my husband.
"No!" I looked back down at my son. "Oh these stupid curls, he should have cut them." I wiped the snot off my nose. "He- He- He" My son! How could he be dead? So young, not even living yet and already dead. This was wrong! This was against the natural order! Mothers die first, that's the deal! That's what's agreed on, that's what's prepared for. Sons do not die first! Sons do not leave their mothers with nothing but an empty space in their heart and home.
He could have been an author. A voice speaks up and that's what life will be resorted to. He could have been. Because he can never be. He will never go to college, he will never get married or have children or take care of me in old age.
I look at the body still resting in my arms. How can you say goodbye to a body was your son? That the doctor placed in your arms after announcing the baby's health.
Why did he have to die?
The blood from his wound is still splattered across my hands. His face, so full of pain-
My son is dead!
"We have to let the doctors take him Eliza." Alexander whispers into my ear and I can feel his tears catch in my hair. I shake my head no. No no no. They can not take my son away! He's mine, he was always supposed to be mine! I bury my head in his curls, but his smell is no longer there. He instead reeks of blood and hospitals, he reeks of death. I gasp out at the realisation.
My baby boy is gone.
I can feel them starting to wheel the bed away, muttering their regrets and condolences but all their words fall flat. There are not enough words for them to say that could come close to comfort.
"No! No! No!" I scream at them as Alexander restrains me. His sobs echoing against my ear as I cry for them to come back.
"Phillip!" I yell down the corridor.
Phillip is dead.
I sink to the ground and Alexander slides with me, putting his arms around me and crying into my shoulder as I scream. Screams seem to be the only way to even come close to expressing the pain.
"Phillip." I cry against Alexander's hair. I scream for what seems like hours, people pass by with disgusted looks and doctors think of sedating me, but none of their threats can do anything.
My son is dead.
My son is dead.
My son is-
I snap awake and quickly flee towards the hospital bed, kissing the little curls that formed due to the sweat on Phillip's forehead. Phillip my poor sweet Phillip.
His body will soon lie in the ground, rotting until his curls are gone completely.
"Eliza?" Alexander asks as he approaches with coffee in his hands.
"Alex- I- Oh Phillip!" Snot pours onto Phillip's face and I quickly brush it away trying not to disturb his beauty. I turn to Alex.
"Mom?" I freeze. Not daring to turn around and face the reality that that small angelic voice was just something conjured up by my brain.
Phillip is dead I remind myself.
"Mom are you okay?" I spin on my heel and see him. His face softly lifted from the pillow, his eyes widened in a curious, amused, and frightened expression.
"Oh Phillip! You're alive!" I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his forehead.
"Um yeah I'm alive, it was a simple proce-" And then his voice is fading and I can feel the small tug of knowing in my stomach.
I snap awake, for real this time. Alex has his arm limply wrapped around me and for a second I don't move. For a second this could be it, something I succumbed to in the first weeks after the death, drowning under oceans of grief for a son gone too soon. I shove his arm off of me and go downstairs to make pancakes. Phillip who was so full of life would have hated for the Hamilton household to be broken like a lightbulb with dark heavy guilt. He would have hated to be the cause. Besides there are other children to feed, to make sure their hearts are still beating.
Thanks for reading!