End of the Day
A gentle whirr of oxygen gurgles down tubing delicately draped over a pink floral night-gown. A blanket and comforter in soft mellow yellow are pulled up tight, fixed at the bottom with pristine hospital corners. Around the double bed three older children gather like they always have done, holding grandchildren close as memories swim like a dolphin. Teenage girls hold each other, unable to watch their grandmother die until they have to. A 20 year old boy, obsessed by photography, captures the final bittersweet moments of death – the cessation of life – as it happens, shallow breath by shallow breath.
"We're here mom" a grown woman now, Georgie Lyman plumps her mom's pillows up and holds her hand tightly.
"You'll…take…cc.a..ree.." her voice is rasp.
"Don't worry, go…find dad…" on the cusp of falling to pieces a steadying hand appears on her shoulder.
"Mom, we all love you so much.." none of them are sure she comprehends, caught between one life and the next.
"You'll never be forgotten" her eyelids droop and flicker awake in what has been an endless fight.
"lo….ve..you.." her eyes no longer open, her hand goes limp and her lips turn purple. It's neither relief nor morning, it's a bittersweet moment they've longed for and dreaded for 40, 37 and 33 years respectively but as evening dusk narrows they are grateful she will never be alone again.
Donnatella Lyman 19.6.2045 17:56