The Last Good Day

This is a short chapter. Savor it.

Chapter Five: The Last Good Day

 

"Stupid nurse," muttered Mother from the hospital bed. "I hate it when they do that."

 

This behavior wasn't entirely too unusual (yet). Mother usually couldn't help but show annoyance when she was in the immediate vicinity of someone who was quite obviously a little slow. The effects of being a very devoted English teacher.

 

"Okay, sweetie, you can go ahead and sit up. Julian and Aden came to tell you the results of your diagnosis, okay? Go ahead and eat while they talk, you've just been through a very tough time and I need you to rest, okay? If you're tired just ring the call button and I'll come right over, sweetie." All this the nurse said like she was talking to a very, very slow toddler.

 

I would have been scared if Mother hadn't said something like that.

 

Dad and I decided we wanted to tell Mother the results of the diagnosis and its symptoms before it was too late. I guess we were both just praying that when she would have one of her (what we presumed would be) fits, she could get this glowing image of us sitting by her bed and holding her hand and telling her we loved her or whatever, and she would stop screaming and everything and hug us and say she loved us and maybe everything could be normal for just a little bit. Of course, that was the kind of thing that only happened in fairy tales and never actually occurred in real life, but, you know, hope is always a nice thing to have so long as it doesn't go crashing to the rocks below (which it usually always does).

 

"Elizabeth," said my father quietly. "We have the results of your diagnosis."

 

Mother had been staring up at the ceiling. Then she turned her head sharply toward us, something strange in her eyes. "I don't want to know."

 

Father was taken aback.

 

"I don't want to know. There's all this angst coming up inside me, Julian, I don't know why it's there but I think I know it's because of something in my head, because it aches like hell. And if you tell me, I'm afraid that all this angst will come out and I know something's wrong and I don't want to know what, can we just sit here and be a happy family one last time?"

 

She was crying a little, I was crying a little, Dad was crying a lot. He gripped her hand and whispered, "I love you, Elizabeth."

 

And then we were saying our I love you's, and it felt so much like good-byes, and we were all crying and I just wanted this moment to last forever. But alas, as Shakespeare wrote, Time is a s**t, and soon Mother was asleep and Father and I gripping each other like if we let go the world would split in two, and we were happy and sorrowful at the same time and we were just crying and crying and crying until we had to leave.

 

That was the Last Good Day.

Author's Note

The sluttiness of time quote is from Sonnet 55 from Shakespeare. That one is one of my favorites. 66 is okay.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem was very sad. I like the mother's attitude. You create a sad vision of people trying to understand a goodbye and death. No weakness in the excellent chapter.
Coyote