I Hate That Room

This week’s prompt:
Think of a room from your past.  It can be any type of room at all.
 
Take a mental picture of that room.

What happened there?  What is it like?  What is the atmosphere there?  What are the smells, the sounds, the sights?  How does it feel?

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I stood in the sterile hallway with my baby boy in my arms.  I marveled at how long his eyelashes were and felt his soft, blond hair as he lay in my arms.  Tim walked up with a half smile on his face as my mother opened the door to my Aunt’s room.

It was darker in there than I thought it would be and as we stepped inside I saw her sitting up and she was smiling.  It smelled like that awful mix of ammonia and vomit and I was suddenly overcome with the sadness of it all.

She just wanted to see us and I wanted to see her, I truly did, but I could barely handle the fact that this was really it this time.  My heart wrenched in my chest since I knew this would be my last time to see her.  I held back tears.

The baby woke as Tim took him from my arms.  She commented on how big he’d gotten and asked if she could kiss him, knowing there was physically no way she could hold him.  Everyone was smiling through the uncomfortable-ness, except for me.  I’m certain I was not. I told her that of course she could and I wondered what it felt like for her to take in his scent and just be near a baby that was the closest thing she’d ever had to a grandchild.

I wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, that even after 8 years of this sh*t I knew she wanted to be done.  That she was ready.  But I still was not.  Not ready to lose her.  Or let her go.

I leaned over the bed and embraced her frail body and I know she used all the strength she could muster to hug me back.

I scanned the faces in the room – my parents, my uncle, my husband and my son, all here, in this room.  The room where she would take her last breath.  The room where we came to say goodbye.

But I didn’t say it.  Instead I said “I love you and I’ll see you again soon.”  She was drifting off from the strong meds when I told her, but I know she heard me.

I sang at her funeral, per her request, and of course I still think of her often.  And I know my mother still misses her sister very much and I do too. I hate cancer and I will always hate that room.