Family Short Story – Death Is An Ugly Thing
Photo credit: mzacha from morguefile.com
As a child, I never had to worry about the worst coming out of life. There were no bills to pay, no family to argue with, and definitely no dangers involved. Me and my friends would always go out to play at the hooded area near my house. The sun would cast it’s yellow glow upon my yellow skin, causing me to smile up at the sky, glad to have been so lucky for my life.
As the years went on, the sun stopped shining like it used to, and all that remained were the dark clouds in it’s place. Me and my father were in the car, heading out of the state for our new home.
“Hey, dad, why did mom leave us again?” I questioned. I heard him take a deep breath in before sighing. He glanced over at me fumbling with my dark brown curls, patiently awaiting him to answer.
“It was… her time to go,” he replied calmly. He didn’t want to break my heart, but, I had heard his conversation with my grandma the day we went in to the hospital. The air was chilled there, and the scent of the alcohol they used to clean patient’s wounds and skin for shots lingered around every corner.
I was only seven years old at the time. “She’s in here,” my dad said, leading me into a white room. My mother looked pale; paler than normal. She turned her head to face me, dim blue, almost lifeless eyes meeting my oak brown ones.
“Sweetie.. come here,” she said sweetly, beckoning me to hug her. I ran forward and wrapped my arms around her. “I missed you so much,” she muttered. The doctor soon walked into the room, hands in his pockets. “Miss, it’s time for your medication.”
My mother’s whole demeanor changed with those few words. She looked almost fearful, before flashing me one last smile. The world seemed to stand still as soon as she dropped the pills into her mouth. She muttered something under her breath, sinking back into the pillow.
“I’m sorry your visit had to be cut short… but, she needs some rest,” the doctor stated with a small false smile. I glanced towards my dad tearing up, and that’s when the god-awful monotone of the blaring machine sounded. The one that kept track of her her heartbeat.
The line that had all the ridges on it earlier was just… flat. I tugged on my dad’s sleeve after we were sent out of the room. “Daddy, what’s wrong with mommy?” I asked.
“W-well, she just needs to rest, that’s all.”
After that day, it never crossed my mind as to why we never heard a single thing about it ever again. Once I was thirteen, he finally told me what had happened.
“Your mother had a very bad cancer that spread and got to her heart. The doctor thought it was just best to say goodbye.”
The one thing that haunted me to this day, though, wasn’t entirely the fact I’d never see my mother again, no.
We never got to say our goodbyes for the last time, no ‘I love you’, or anything like that.
I miss the sun shining, but, my mother’s smile was an even better gift. The only thing I learned was that death is an ugly thing.
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