As It Settles In

The Present

'We're going on a feels trip, kids. Hope your lunch boxes are packed and that your souls are emotionless. Ready?' You read on the second door of the second floor of the building. What? You think, bewildered. Looking around you spot a box of Kleenexes and pick it up. Turning back to the door you then open it.

There is a possibility of you not crying, but here is a small warning because I teared up slightly when writing this. If you don't cry, it does not mean you are soulless. I hope no one will be offended by that.

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My blurred eyes wake up to the cream wall of the hospital room while my ears adjust to the sound of a slow and slightly steady beep of the heart monitor. Blinking away the sleepiness, I sit up and roll the crick that I've been given from sleeping in the chair next to the bed. A groan nearly escapes, when someone else beats me to it. My head snaps to the left and see my mother, awake. She laughs quietly which then turns into a small fit of coughs when my jaw drops to the floor. I try to form words, but nothing seems to want to come out. It was as if I didn't know how to talk anymore.

My lips were parched and my throat was closed up. In all honesty, I didn't want to talk anymore. There really was no point. Everyone else talked enough for me, plus it wasn't like any of what I would say would be important. But, here, my mother was, awake, smiling, and okay.

Only for a moment, the relief and happiness lasted.

Abruptly her cough stops and she starts to have gurgling and alarmingly loud breathing and the heart monitor's consistent beeps turn rapid and harsh.

I want to scream for help, I want to run and get help, I want to help.

"Mom?" I manage to only whisper, my eyes wide and body frozen. My warm hand squeezes her cold one tight, as if to stop her from slipping away.

"Mom?" I whisper hoarsely, a slight bit louder.

Her head turns towards me and she whispers, "Don't be sad, sweetheart. I know... easier said than done, but please live a good life." She's interrupted by another sudden and rattling breath. At this point nurses have entered and have started rushing around rapidly. One of them yells to get the doctor, but by then it'll be too late. I can see my mom fading away already, just by one glance at her normally shining brown eyes that are layered with tears.

The doctor runs in as she whispers her last words: "I love you." And then the monitor flat lines, now a cold and ruthless reminder of a beautiful angel that has been taken. I stare at my mother's body. Dead. Lifeless. Gone. No hair to frame her soft face and gentle features, all gone from now failed chemo-therapies. It hurt to look at her, but I willed myself to commit everything to memory. I didn't want to forget. I never wanted to forget. No matter the pain. Her love, her beauty, her warmth -she deserved to be remembered.

Glancing at the clock and the calendar, I see the digits.

"Happy birthday, me."