A mother on the brink of death, a son confronted with a situation none could prepare for.
|“What are you doing here?” Steven echoed throughout his mind, meanwhile knowing there came a time where a person’s whole world is encapsulated at a single place. The subject becomes sensitive to every detail, powerless to act when heart strings reverberate with each passing second. Regardless of how much one mentally prepares themselves; any measure of knowledge or experience of sorrow proves in vain when such a cruel reality strikes. This, Steven, learned when he became confronted with the sight of his mother unresponsive, laying in a hospital bed.
Surrounded by four pale walls, the room would be her place of rest until the bitter end where her only child was left standing. Stood paralysed in fear for the eventuality of saying goodbye.
He watched a calm exterior struggle with breathing, growing weaker gradually as his mother’s chest needed to rise. Her wrinkled skin showed signs that an end drew near, void of colour covering a frail skeletal frame, after being savagely diminished by a terminal illness.
As nurses visited checking their patient's condition, naivety grew within Steven, conjuring hopes that his own children had envisaged before he ventured out to be with their grandmother, in what the hospital warned as her final moments.
The idea that she’d survive the night vice gripped Steven’s core, at an extent the ticking clock on the wall felt as though the universe was pushing for him to watch a life extinguished. He wanted professional opinions to be wrong, just to cling onto her for as long as possible.
Then a final breath exhaled his mother, leaving a peaceful smile that had not been seen for many days, one of comfort. A glow emanated from her once sunken cheeks. A sign to a heartbroken son that death granted a respectful end to her suffering.