Tommy had sat for three days next to his wife’s bed. Sometimes he held her hand. Sometimes he dabbed her brow with a cool flannel. Her breathing was a little laboured. The liver cancer had hit fast, but these last three days of waiting were slow.
She seemed to settle for the night; another long night.
And then the breathing changed.
And then a stillness came.
Tommy sat for an hour before phoning anyone.
My Mom died of cancer shortly after Easter, so we did those three days of waiting a little later. She insisted on going to church on Easter Sunday, and refused extra morphine even when she couldn’t talk anymore. Stubborn lady.
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She sounds a stunning mother to have been blessed with. I must admit that I stumbled across her obituary and was impressed and moved. Lest you think I’ve been too nosy, I was actually checking up on your sister’s unusual name (without realizing it was your sister) and thought aha!
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My life is an open book, but it’s in swahili.
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Ha – a good way of putting it.
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Simple and beautifully expressed, Bruce.
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Thank you, Chris.
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Very moving Bruce.
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Thanks, Andrea.
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Short and poignant. Her death is nothing short of crucifixion for the sins committed by others.
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Thank, Uma. Appreciated as always.
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Ah …. that is delicate and immensely poignant Bruce.
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Thank you, John. Greatly appreciated. And Happy Easter!
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