Little Princess

September 22, 2008
By Lillian Sliwoski, Rochester, NY

Three years back and forth,
Hospital to home.
Tears and terror filled the air.
From small talk and silence,
To screaming and yelling.
Life seemed it couldn't get better.
Sickness and sorrow, faith and fate.
Taking a turn for the worse,
My father became the permanent nurse.
Day in and day out we waited for the call.
Waiting to hear she made it though another fall.
A burst of happiness and pure joy, a shear moment in time.
Visit after visit, watching the same trees pass by.
Elevator button 5 room 5864.
Trudging down halls to see my loved one.
Entering her room I wanted to smile.
Faint noises, BeEp BeEp, slower and slower tore me apart.
Couldn't take it anymore, it was a bomb ticking, wanting to explode.
Anger grew in me.
Doctors, people who thought they could tell me her fate,
Not in my book.
Three months they gave her.
No more trips to grandmas or mash potato dinner.
No more feeding the squirrels or playing hookie.
No more making the bed with me in it.
No more pots and pans in the morning.
No more bunny stories.
No more grandma.
Visiting hours were over, I refused to leave.
Palms sweaty heart pounding, eyes focused on her chest, up, down.
A sign of relief.
The clock struck midnight, my cue to go.
Saying bye as if it was my last, whispered I love you as I embrace in her, weak, skinny, shaky arms.
The ride home, I watch the same trees pass.
Once again I lay awake in bed, thoughts running through my mind.
As if death was on their trail.
A slight shake woke me that night.
Three : Fifty Four.
Soft shaky voice,
She has walked through heavens doors,
her final resting place.


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