The Truth About Dying
Posted: 12 Sep 2019, 12:51
This is a short story I wrote shortly after my mother passed away 3 years ago. It is just about the anniversary of her death and I felt like I wanted to share it with all of you wonderful people since she is heavy on my mind lately. I hope you enjoy it.
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The sky grew dark as Cara sat for hours holding her mothers hand for the last time. She wondered how it had come to this. 4 years ago when her mother was diagnosed with cancer, she never expected this day would come, but her mother Margo knew. She always knew from day one that this was her fate, this was how it would all end, in a hospital bed holding her daughters hand. Detached, seemingly devoid of all thoughts, feelings or capability. Though always knowing, Margo never expected Cara to be there, she never wanted for her to see her like this, or be like this for that matter. No one wants to die of course, but Margo always joked for her kids to bury her in the backyard when the time came, taking her undeniable end in stride. The hallway was quiet, lights flickering, and the now darkening room was deathly silent save for the low hum and whir of machines sustaining her frail body.
A year ago Margo was chubby, lively and fun loving. Cara was sober, level and in charge. Today Margo is fragile, tiny; almost lost in the already tiny bed, hooked to so many machines she's almost hidden. Cara is now lost, spastic and feels as though she's failed, both women a mere shadow of their former selves. Or are they? Far away from the whir of the machines, Cara's sighs and the pain of metastasized cancer, Margo peacefully relives her happiest moments.
She first finds herself in a casino, alongside Cara, glaring at the slots. She lost again, but not as badly as the time she and her oldest daughter Lara left the casino with nothing more than $2 and a stuffed frog. She smiles inwardly remembering Lara's face with her now fixed tooth after Cara once chipped it by mistake. Suddenly she finds herself wandering through store after store Christmas shopping, the scene was different in every store. In some she was buying toys for the her 4 children when they were young, in others buying gifts for the young adults she raised. As the scenery changed, she finally settled on one from years ago, sitting outside her oncologists office. Cara was embracing her tightly, both crying tears of joy as she was declared as having no evidence of disease. A major surgery taking her vocal chords and voice box, 32 radiation treatments and finally, finally she was cancer free. Before the anger inside her could well up, the scene jumped to sitting in a brightly lit arena, staring at a wrestling ring. She looked around seeing a big, bright green foam finger on her hand and her daughter glowing beside her. She lingers, remembering how it felt to be so happy before she rushed backwards even further. Now she sat in front of a brightly lit Christmas tree, sleepily opening gifts she and Cara had exchanged. Hers wrapped beautifully by Cara, Cara's wrapped in a ripped jumbled mess of colorful paper. She smiled, remembering all the times she would bribe Lara into wrapping the Christmas gifts when she got older. She could still smell the ordered pizza from Christmas Even dinner, they always ordered out after the fiasco a few years back when Cara tried to make the perfect Christmas Eve dinner and panicked when it wasn't. Flowing gently backwards, almost as if on a river, she opens her eyes to find herself holding little Cara's hand, walking her back to the car from 2nd grade. They drove down back roads like they did every day after school, spotting farm animals and laughing. She remembered when Cara was 5 she stole gum from the local convienient store and cried as she told Margo all about it on these same back roads.
Things went faster now, showing her brief glimpses of various scenes. Her children gathered around her kitchen table all laughing and joking, playing rummy with her daughters, the time her son Mark nearly burned the house down from hiding his mashed potatoes in napkins stuffed into the radiator. She sees herself dressing Cara for school, bickering over the frilly outfits, the night each of her children were born, until finally she slides into her own childhood. Feeling a pressure on her chest she sees her mothers face. Gloria was smiling down at young Margo, extending her hand. "Come home now, Margo, it's getting late." She feels like she should remember something or someone, but she just had an overwhelming sense of peace. Reaching out she takes her mothers hand, squeezing, and she smiles one last time before the world melts away. She finds herself now sitting with her mother, playing rummy patiently waiting for the time she will see her children again.
Cara startles, feeling her mother squeeze her hand, "Momma?" she says tearfully, looking at her face. Her mother smiles as she draws her last breath. Sadness floods Cara but she can't help but pictures a scene of her mom and grandmother happily sitting together sipping whiskey sours.
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The sky grew dark as Cara sat for hours holding her mothers hand for the last time. She wondered how it had come to this. 4 years ago when her mother was diagnosed with cancer, she never expected this day would come, but her mother Margo knew. She always knew from day one that this was her fate, this was how it would all end, in a hospital bed holding her daughters hand. Detached, seemingly devoid of all thoughts, feelings or capability. Though always knowing, Margo never expected Cara to be there, she never wanted for her to see her like this, or be like this for that matter. No one wants to die of course, but Margo always joked for her kids to bury her in the backyard when the time came, taking her undeniable end in stride. The hallway was quiet, lights flickering, and the now darkening room was deathly silent save for the low hum and whir of machines sustaining her frail body.
A year ago Margo was chubby, lively and fun loving. Cara was sober, level and in charge. Today Margo is fragile, tiny; almost lost in the already tiny bed, hooked to so many machines she's almost hidden. Cara is now lost, spastic and feels as though she's failed, both women a mere shadow of their former selves. Or are they? Far away from the whir of the machines, Cara's sighs and the pain of metastasized cancer, Margo peacefully relives her happiest moments.
She first finds herself in a casino, alongside Cara, glaring at the slots. She lost again, but not as badly as the time she and her oldest daughter Lara left the casino with nothing more than $2 and a stuffed frog. She smiles inwardly remembering Lara's face with her now fixed tooth after Cara once chipped it by mistake. Suddenly she finds herself wandering through store after store Christmas shopping, the scene was different in every store. In some she was buying toys for the her 4 children when they were young, in others buying gifts for the young adults she raised. As the scenery changed, she finally settled on one from years ago, sitting outside her oncologists office. Cara was embracing her tightly, both crying tears of joy as she was declared as having no evidence of disease. A major surgery taking her vocal chords and voice box, 32 radiation treatments and finally, finally she was cancer free. Before the anger inside her could well up, the scene jumped to sitting in a brightly lit arena, staring at a wrestling ring. She looked around seeing a big, bright green foam finger on her hand and her daughter glowing beside her. She lingers, remembering how it felt to be so happy before she rushed backwards even further. Now she sat in front of a brightly lit Christmas tree, sleepily opening gifts she and Cara had exchanged. Hers wrapped beautifully by Cara, Cara's wrapped in a ripped jumbled mess of colorful paper. She smiled, remembering all the times she would bribe Lara into wrapping the Christmas gifts when she got older. She could still smell the ordered pizza from Christmas Even dinner, they always ordered out after the fiasco a few years back when Cara tried to make the perfect Christmas Eve dinner and panicked when it wasn't. Flowing gently backwards, almost as if on a river, she opens her eyes to find herself holding little Cara's hand, walking her back to the car from 2nd grade. They drove down back roads like they did every day after school, spotting farm animals and laughing. She remembered when Cara was 5 she stole gum from the local convienient store and cried as she told Margo all about it on these same back roads.
Things went faster now, showing her brief glimpses of various scenes. Her children gathered around her kitchen table all laughing and joking, playing rummy with her daughters, the time her son Mark nearly burned the house down from hiding his mashed potatoes in napkins stuffed into the radiator. She sees herself dressing Cara for school, bickering over the frilly outfits, the night each of her children were born, until finally she slides into her own childhood. Feeling a pressure on her chest she sees her mothers face. Gloria was smiling down at young Margo, extending her hand. "Come home now, Margo, it's getting late." She feels like she should remember something or someone, but she just had an overwhelming sense of peace. Reaching out she takes her mothers hand, squeezing, and she smiles one last time before the world melts away. She finds herself now sitting with her mother, playing rummy patiently waiting for the time she will see her children again.
Cara startles, feeling her mother squeeze her hand, "Momma?" she says tearfully, looking at her face. Her mother smiles as she draws her last breath. Sadness floods Cara but she can't help but pictures a scene of her mom and grandmother happily sitting together sipping whiskey sours.