By Charles Gray
I don’t recognize Mom. Her head is shaved and scarred, and down her throat, there’s a breathing tube.
The surgeon says her chances of survival are low.
I lay my rosary in her palm and curl her fingers around it.
Hours I stay at her bedside, caressing her hand.
“Mom, I’m here.”
She remains still. Her eyes shut.
“Mom…I’ll miss our two-hour phone calls…and how you always tell me…I’m your queen of queens.”
Her finger twitches.
“Mom, can you hear me?”
She blinks three times. Each blink the same, slow and steady.
“Yes, Mom, I love you too.”
Ah so beautifully written through the spoken and unspoken word. It brought a tear to my eye as I recalled sitting with my mother
Thank you Mary.
Brought back the memory of my last precious day with my mom. Poignant story.
Thank you Yolanda.
A touching story. A lot has been told in such a small frame.
Thank you Debaprasad.
Such a beautiful long story condensed into just 101 poignant words..
Thanks Yogita.
Parents in hospitals. The birth of a harrowing tale.
Yes indeed. Thanks Justin.
A lovely rendering of a near universal moment. I’ve been through this too many times–parents, grandparents, favorite uncle, close friends. The circle of life is as cruel as it is joyful. Maybe it’s balance but in the moment of loss itself, it’s hard to see that.
Thanks Gary.
Thank you for sharing this moment. So touching.
Thank you, Nina.
So truly touching.
Beautifully written. Such love