Saturday, March 15, 2014


It was rainy that day.

I rode atop the crackled pavement lining the streets, water filling the cracks like blood. I muted the radio. I watched the windshield whippers go back and forth. As the rain cascaded outside, I realized the sun was still shining. Maybe it was a sign or something, sun and rain. Instead of getting philosophical, I tried not to think about it.

It was time.

It was the time we didn't want. The time we dreaded. The time we tried to escape. The time we held back with a feeding tube and excessive drugs.

It was time for her to die.

I felt empty inside. I wasn't pulsing with emotion. I was just empty. It was as if I was reading my life in a book. It wasn't happening to me. I was merely observing.

I arrived at my destination. As I walked in, my mother was in the hall, obviously holding back tears.

Mom: "She has about five hours at best."


Mom: "It's fine of you don't want to see her this way."


My mom glanced at the doctor approaching us. He shook my hand gently.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's probable she can still hear you."

He quietly scuttled away. We approached the room. I pushed the large door open. White light seeped through the closed shades of the room. All that was to be heard was the gurgle of medical equipment.

Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing.

I stood there.

"It's okay if you don't want to say anything."

"I will."

I stood there.

"It's alright, you really don't have to say anything Solstice." I started crying.

What could I say? I wanted to say that all the good stories have crappy endings, that I would miss her obsession with books, her screeching voice calling for her dog. That there wasn't any right thing to say, that all the normal stuff is BS, that I felt empty, that to me, she was still in her small little house living pleasantly.

I approached her, speaking through sobs.

"I've stood here a few minutes, thinking about what to say." I tried to be as truthful as I could. "To be honest, there's no such thing as a perfect goodbye. But know that we love you, that we'll miss you, that you were noteworthy."

That was it. Why didn't I say more?


This is my shout into the abyss. My contribution to the chaos.

You were noteworthy.

Four hours later, she died. Seconds before it happened, she opened her eyes. She opened her eyes and looked at me. Just looked at me.

What did she see?

1 comment:

Thanks for commenting! *Awkward high five*