I jolt awake from a deep sleep, the deepest I’ve ever had, despite the hard, discomfort of the waiting room chair.
“GO TO HER”.
I hear the command loud and painful in my heart.
I rush to her room. It is 6:03am Pittsburgh time, my other siblings off somewhere.
This deterioration of the matriarch eating away at what I thought was the perfect family…unaffected by the many stories I’ve listened to over the years of other’s family dissonance.
I reach her, the monitors still, her body trembling. I grab her hand for dear life. Literally.
I call for the medical staff.
I cry o for my mamma’s comfort.
I beg her to stay.
The trembles of her strong, not so strong body increase.
The nurses run in, and ask why the monitors are off…as if I’d know their job.
The beeps of desperation now beating the beats of the exit.
My sisters run in, from wherever they were, yelling and mumbling in a language that sounds garbled and foreign.
I hold her hand, our world silent for a moment. She takes her last breath, I hear her go.
The family matriarch no longer there to be the glue. The sisters and brother left to allow the disintegration to complete itself.
The days and months and years since, only adding to the pain.
I lost my momma, my best friend. To another world. The everlasting one she believed in so well.
I lost my brother and my sisters and my nieces and nephews and grand nieces and nephews in this one. The one I believed in so much.
Either way. It is done.
No reconciliation in sight. Not mine anyway.
My empty hard shell of a heart, sinking to the bottom of my daily rounds.
It cries.
It hopes.
It wishes.
It denies.
But then, none of that will bring her back. My momma. And her family.
— Trish
“GO TO HER”.
I hear the command loud and painful in my heart.
I rush to her room. It is 6:03am Pittsburgh time, my other siblings off somewhere.
This deterioration of the matriarch eating away at what I thought was the perfect family…unaffected by the many stories I’ve listened to over the years of other’s family dissonance.
I reach her, the monitors still, her body trembling. I grab her hand for dear life. Literally.
I call for the medical staff.
I cry o for my mamma’s comfort.
I beg her to stay.
The trembles of her strong, not so strong body increase.
The nurses run in, and ask why the monitors are off…as if I’d know their job.
The beeps of desperation now beating the beats of the exit.
My sisters run in, from wherever they were, yelling and mumbling in a language that sounds garbled and foreign.
I hold her hand, our world silent for a moment. She takes her last breath, I hear her go.
The family matriarch no longer there to be the glue. The sisters and brother left to allow the disintegration to complete itself.
The days and months and years since, only adding to the pain.
I lost my momma, my best friend. To another world. The everlasting one she believed in so well.
I lost my brother and my sisters and my nieces and nephews and grand nieces and nephews in this one. The one I believed in so much.
Either way. It is done.
No reconciliation in sight. Not mine anyway.
My empty hard shell of a heart, sinking to the bottom of my daily rounds.
It cries.
It hopes.
It wishes.
It denies.
But then, none of that will bring her back. My momma. And her family.
— Trish
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