Music playing: Obokuri-Eeumi by Ikue Asazaki
We had soon found ourselves living in a house for the homeless. Life there was difficult, although we had preffered it to living a life of fear and anguish. Off and on we had fallen ill, although Nui lost a bit of her sight to it and Rei's health didn't seem to improve. As the seasons had passed, she had grown weaker and weaker, until she could barely get out of bed. Like she had done for me years before, I had returned the favor by taking care of her and my sisters.
Even as she was ill and while my sisters stayed with her in the homeless house, I tried to continue on with my days as normally as I could only hope to. I went to school and, once, took a job cleaning up the homeless house. She would reassure me and tell me all was fine, even though, within our hearts, we knew it wasn't. To be honest, I am happy that Pidge and Finch had no comprehension of death, although, I did wish they were so naive that they couldn't grasp exactly what was wrong. Something within told me that Rei's time was limited and that we couldn't pretend anymore and neither did we have to any longer.
I knew all wasn't entirely right when I had returned to the homeless house from school. Outside, there was a black car and an ambulance. An elderly woman in a black dress stood speaking to me, explaining to me that Rei was taken to the hospital. She had taken us to the hospital to see her. The sight was distressing and she was hooked up to some medicine and a machine. The doctor explained that there wasn't much that could really be done and that she might not survive the night or even the next two hours. He offered his sincerest condolences. My worst fears were realized and, true to said fears, she was dying.
I quickly grabbed her hand and begged her not to leave us, to which she responded, "I'm sorry, Dove, sweet little Dove, I haven't a choice, however, while my time be short, I shall take the time tell you that I love you all and the best years of my life were taking care of you, Pidge, and Finch. Whilst I am dying, I must confess that I gave the social worker a note for you to have, the which you will find out everything you need, including where your father is. Thank you for being with me, I love you, and goodnight, ...fore...ev...er..."
Her hand had gone limp and machine had flatlined. Some part of me wanted to wake her, even though she was gone. The person who had looked after us since birth was gone, gone for good. She was trapped, yet she had sacrificed, endured, lost, and promised so much and, in the end, she was free, like the caged bird that she was. The next day, her funeral was a quiet one. I had helped planned it and she was buried under a willow tree.
After her funeral, I had left a lone lily on her grave.