Alone

My body was slumped at the foot of the bed. Others had crowded around, holding tight to the ones they loved, but I was alone. It was nothing new; I had grown used to holding myself together solely by the seams that I had sewn with my own needle. My back was hunched, my legs crossed. I directed my gaze down, averting my eyes from the blinding white of the sheets that covered her, the glint of the metal bars that surrounded the bed, holding her captive. Tears pricked the back of my hazel eyes. It took all the strength I possessed to hold them back. The silence was a cloak wrapped around our throats, threatening to take us with her. The distinct sound of a sniffle cracked through the palpable air.

I could smell the thick, musty scent given off by the fear we failed to mask. The older men held their heads high, diverting their eyes, refusing to show the emotion that tugged at their hearts with unimaginable strength. The off-white carpet itched at my bare legs where the two made contact. My thoughts rattled in my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull and pounding in my ears, creating a headache of extreme proportions. I had idolized this woman who had once been made of steel and impossible to tear down, though now she was frail and vulnerable. Regret from words left unsaid rose up from the pit of my stomach, its wake leaving a metallic taste on my tongue. My hands were clasped together in a grip of steel, clutching the only thing I had, the only thing that I knew was real: myself.

My mind swirled, disbelief clouding the actuality of the scene before me. It was one of the experiences I’d often heard stories about, but had never actually been subjected to myself. It was as if a part of me had drifted up to the ceiling; I was being forced to watch the scene unfold below me, devoid of pain. I had detached myself from my emotion, praying that this would soothe the aching in my heart. Seven bodies congested the area around the small hospital bed where my grandmother lay. The first tear ran silently down my cheek as my aunt leaned closer, whispering her last words to the mother who had raised and protected her. My grandmother clung to her final breaths, willing a revival to appear out of thin air. Her aspirations, however, had been denied. Her body lay helpless, a daisy in a snowstorm, the inevitable closing in as she drew in one final gulp of precious oxygen and let out a sigh more calm than I had ever heard. It was then that she surrendered and set herself free. Her eyes were sad for a moment, two rocks worn by the tides of the ocean whisking them away bit by bit. They connected with mine for an instant. As the moment passed, the life drained from her sapphire eyes. It was the quiet after the storm; the last of the rainwater as it escaped.
A bright white light shone from the ceiling, a portal to another world that beckoned my attention. It was pure and beautiful, unlike anything I had ever seen. It drew my grandmother toward it; arms wide open in a gesture begging for trust. As quickly as it had appeared, it dissipated, permanently consuming my grandmother and any semblance of hope that I still clung to.

My breaths were staggered and ragged as I struggled to contain myself in front of those I had masked my pain from for an immeasurable time. I stood up, my feet wobbling beneath me, a unicycle under a novice. I rushed out the front door in a hurry, hysterical with the need to be away from the sadness that leaked through the cracks and crevices of the house into the biting air of the hungry night, aware that no one would note my disappearance. I stumbled upon a small wooden bench, falling into the comfort of the stability it offered me. The cold metal armrest dug into the flesh of my back, the slight pain reminding me that I was still alive. The smell of fresh cut grass crawled up my nose and stung my weary eyes. Tears flowed freely, the endless reservoir of bottled up agony exiting my body through my eyes. As my body reached a point of exhaustion, my eyes fluttered closed and I sunk into a deep slumber on the bench, alone.