TO DRIFT AWAY INTO THE SKY
Word Count: 277
I watched her last breath drift away. I watched it float lazily up and up and hang on the ceiling until it discovered its own lack of substance and passed through. And with that wisp disappearing into the blank white ceiling, she was gone. That’s all there was to it.
That was my first close encounter with somebody dying. My mother had been sick for a long time and failing fast for several weeks. They called us all in that last day, to sit with her, I suppose, though she was beyond knowing we were there. We’d had months to prepare and yet it always comes as a shock, even in the most serene and comfortable setting. Somebody had brought a CD player and Ave Maria was whispering out through the still room. I remember my brother clicking it off as soon as the nurse came in and confirmed that my mother had died. I remember thinking how uncool that was. It was so “pack up the circus tents and hit the trail.”
We stayed for a little while in her room. One by one we wandered out to the small family waiting room to regroup. Make plans. Decide on funeral home and what she would wear. We hugged, cried, all the things you do when somebody dies, and left the hospital for the last time. But I had to go back.
I touched her hand, kissed her forehead. Said goodbye. Then I looked up at the ceiling above her. I left the room and by the elevator, pressed the up-arrow to the top floor. I stepped out and looked this way and that in the hallway and caught just a glimpse of her heading up the stairs to the roof.
A touching story – reminds any of us who have gone through the experience how surreal & significant the process/event was.
Yes, I’ve witnessed several now and still can’t quite get a hold on the moment, just the aftermath of loss as life keeps going on despite the hole.