Mama with Tears on her Face

I remember waiting to find out, like newborn butterfly was in my stomach, dancing. I was with family only 7 years of age to my name. Death was something you read about in books or saw on TV not something that happened in your family. Especially not to the man who held you and said you were a present because you were the first girl of the family. But I waited, waited. And some more the clock ticked until my mom came in. With tears on her face. Said it was time to say good bye, make peace, and close the door. So I went, not sure of my steps like my feet were leading me on their own. Then I saw him, shriveled with sickness and the sheets holding him so tight like a hug. I wanted to run up, to say I loved him and I would miss him, but no I held back afraid of the person who had taken place of my loving, healthy grandpa. He had always seemed so big, with legs like trunks of trees and always ready to sweep me off my feet into a dizzy hug. But now, the sickness had seized him with it’s deadly clutch that never let go. So I went timidly to the side of the bed afraid of what was next but not quite knowing. He looked at me and saw that I was afraid. He whispered and called me his little duckling and then I knew it was really he. I went to hug him but the nurse pulled me back with a starch white rustle saying I mustn’t be rough. So I leaned in and kissed his soft leather cheek. He smoothed my hair and said I must help my mom and to make something of myself, not like my silly brothers that were always in trouble. Then he pulled me close and I felt safe once again inside his warm arms. But then, the whoosh of nurses and medicine came and I was pushed out with a tumble. Then I saw my mom and took her on my lap and told her everything would be all right, and I held her till the sun went down.