I can’t hear you, I murmured back.
She swallowed, her tubed nose rasped (emphasise on her wish to be with her family. but she can’t make informed decision or her voice heard.)
"I want a milo and a biscuit" (description of a long corridor pressing in)
And I suddenly felt the weight of her words
but my legs kept on moving, I kept on pushing her to the operation doors. "mama It's going to be alright. You'll have as many milo and biscuits as you want later", i told her.
we couldn't turn back. the family had agreed, the past painful month we struggled, and placed our hopes on this. Even though there was an improbability. we took that tiny sliver of chance fueled with prayer.
The doctors said she could last for a week
She stayed unconscious for that week
She did not die in dignity
She did not get to say goodbye
We did not get to say goodbye
she did not get her milo and biscuits
but she couldve.
She couldve had her hour of peace in lucid pain, strengthened by her choice to be aware,
surrounded by support she will not see a tear drip down their faces as they comfort and tell her how much she is loved.
Comments
Post a Comment