I wrote this on Sunday in response to a writing prompt. It has stuck with me all week and I decided to submit it as my Bigger Picture Moment.
Click, click, click.
Heels tapping out a staccoto rhythm on the tile floor in the hall.
Moving away from us now, taking hope with them.
Each click of those sharp heels digging a little deeper as they stomp hope into the ground.
Silence…
What good are words?
They change nothing.
We are stunned.
We need to shut down our senses, narrow our focus in order to understand.
For the longest while we sit in silence.
Drip, drip, drip.
Water collects into a bead at the end of the faucet.
It grows until finally it lets go tumbling down, down into the drain.
The sound, barely audible shocks me out of the numb and foggy place I have gone in my brain.
It brings me back into the room, back into pain.
And still I sit frozen in my place.
Hope is lost.
We make the best of the time we have.
I hear stories of his boyhood half way round the world.
He asks me if I can see the people in the room with us.
I can not.
The way to tell the living from the dead in this gauzy point between two worlds is to let your gaze travel down,
Run down the leg to the floor.
The living have feet, the spirits have no need of them.
He shares so many glimpses that only a person looking through the thin veil can see.
There is no need for fear I can tell from his voice.
When the end finally comes he stretches out his arms and calls out.
Someone is waiting.
He is not alone, not abandoned.
He is found.
Katie at The Lightning and the Lightning Bug offered the prompt “Lost and Found”. The mere suggestion brought on a flood of memories of the experience some years back of being with my brother-in-law as he dealt with cancer and the medical community at the end of his life. It is never easy to lose someone, but there is so much to be found in those moments and stories shared as this life ends. It was my privilege to be with Al as much as I got to be.
This gave me chills the writing was so raw and close to the bone. I love the hope and faith at the end.
The end was truly an amazing experience. I think about it often and it gives me such comfort.
Amazing! I believed I was right there, feeling it all. You write really well.
Why, thank you!
“He asks me if I can see the people in the room with us.”
He had the comfort of you being there with him as well as those who waited to guide him home. I’d like to think that death is a beginning rather than an ending.
I have always believed this, and this experience was confirmation of it.
This was chilling…and comforting. I have never been with someone as they pass on, and as I think of all those I love, I know I will want to be right there…as hard as I’m sure it is. This is beautifully written.
Sad and hard as it was, it was also a series of beautiful experiences over the course of about a year.
I’m sitting here in a pool of tears… this was such a moving piece. Thank you so much for sharing it with us today. I love the sounds, the feelings, everything that you described was palpable.
It has been about six years, but for some reason this week it feels like yesterday.
WOW!
It is interesting how though the loss is always with you sometimes it is so much closer to the surface.
I have such limited experience with death having never lost anyone close to me. A combination of my own fears and movie scenes have largely fueled the creation of my mental picture of such an event. It was amazing to read this personal account. Both chilling and inspiring. Beautiful writing.
Thank you. Most of my experience with loss comes at the end of some long and terrible diseases. What I have learned is that even these situations that you wouldn’t wish on anyone, have moments of tremendous blessing and beauty within them.
This gives me goosebumps, May. Wow.
My brother-in-law was a brilliant man. Didn’t miss much and this phase of his life was no different. He was aware of so much and anxious to share it. Even though he was being led away from us, I found it so comforting to know he felt guided by those who had gone before.
As someone who has lost a person they love, this made me tear up. You’ve capture that moment perfectly.
It is not easy, is it? But if it had to happen, I was thankful for the opportunity to be caregiver when I could.