The bug-eyed doctor stepped from my grandmother’s room; he smelled of bleach and hot water.
‘She’s not reactive to touch or smell,’ he said in his best attempt at a compassionate voice. ‘I’m sorry.’ With that, he clopped down the stairs and out the front door.
I opened her bedroom door expecting to see some grotesque dead woman with splayed legs and open vacant eyes. Instead, I saw my grandmother with her salt and pepper hair resting comfortably against her too white pillows. On the night table sat wilting lilies and a picture of my dead grandfather with her two dead children. I ran my hand across the bureau where she kept her perfume and a statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe; an odd layer of dust stuck to my dirty fingers.
I turned to spy her peaceful countenance and saw her earnest eyes staring at me. ‘I’m dying, Michael. And I just don’t know if it was worth it.’ Her eyes closed, and she was gone.
8 comments:
That was so poignant.
Phew, that's telling it like it is! Love the detail about the statue of the virgin of Guadalupe!
This was heartbreaking in its honesty...and you wrote it beautifully. It evoked such deep emotion...wonderfully done!
I, too, love the emotion in this. Very well told.
How sad, not knowing if it was worth it in the end.
That was a sad ending. Always bad when a person doesn't know their life was worth it!
Well written - great descriptions and detail. Provocative and poignant.
So sad and poignant. Liked the fine detailing here.
A Climb Through Altered Landscapes
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