I sat in the bed waiting for death to come. I look into my daughter's eyes knowing that this will be the last time that I will ever see them again. I then turn to my youngest grandchild and smile knowing that he has his whole life ahead of him. Behind my grandson i see the floral wall paper that my husband and I put up after we moved into the house. The paper is frail and faded, so much so that you can barely tell that there are flowers. My eyes lead me to the window and I see that the day is cold and rainy, making me wish that I could have seen the sun one last time before I parish. The window swings open from the wind and I feel the cold breeze wash over me and send a shiver down my spine. I hear all of the muddled footsteps running across the room trying to shut the window. The sounds of the floorboards shrieking in protest with every step taken. I fight to keep my eyes open but all they want to do is close. My nose then picks up a scent and it makes me sneeze. I pull my covers up feeling the soft comforting blanket against my weathered old hands. I know that I am ready to die so I close my eyes as I say goodbye.
Waiting on the End
March 8, 2012