- 1 week ago
- In Delivery Service
They mull about the room, maybe Duallity not as confused as we think, staring at the dying mother, for death is here and nudges them too as a reminder of what will and must come. He lingers with us in the hospital hallway outside the room, a friend we hate, pressing us, daring us to crack an errant joke or mention God. He knows (Death does) our ignorance and our faulty gaze, and maybe instead of reveling in our fear he tries desperately, in horror, to make us see his side; we are averted.
Still, death has always been an old friend of mine, my study companion, the one I trust to release me someday. I study my grandmother’s hollow mouth, her shallow breath, and I smile silently to myself, hoping the others, who couldn’t understand, haven’t seen.