By C. E. Stokes
With no parents, she was all the family I knew. Nana showed up at every field hockey game. After my first break-up, her fingers wiped tears away.
Now in a narrow hospital bed lay a caricature of the woman who molded my life.
“I gotta run.” The chair scraped the floor as I stood up.
“I know.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“No rush. I love you.” Machines beside her beeped.
Tomorrow came with reasons to avoid seeing her frail form on white sheets.
Day after that, the hospital called. Nana passed in her sleep. No pain. No chance to say good-bye.
A warm story of love–and regret. Nicely done, C.E.