the story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of love is hello and goodbye… until we meet again

Here it is!  Day 25!

Ahh, Jimi Hendrix. You were The Man.

We did it, precious readers! We did it! With your encouragement, I actually made it to Day 25!  From now on, it’s going to be weekly or bi-weekly posts.  Hope you’re looking forward to more concise, well-thought-out and (hopefully) error-free postings!

I’m not even sure if this deserves a separate post. Perhaps we should just live in “The Now” and enjoy 25/25 Daily Writing Challenges.

Yes. Yes, I think so!

Thank you, Precious Readers! I love you all!
Here’s to the dawn of a new day!

LAST (!!!) Daily Writing Challenge

Day 25: Today, your character is saying goodbye to someone. Who are they saying goodbye to? Why? Are they emotional? Are they going away or is the other person? Write the scene.

Today’s post is about goodbyes. I’m not saying goodbye to you readers, but since today is a momentous day, we’re using today’s DWC to say goodbye to someone who deeply inspired me to continue writing.

Erma
Aug. 19th, 1907 – Mar. 15, 2007

Grandma went to college to study journalism in a time when college wasn’t necessarily a common thing for women. She is one of the many voices in my head (one of the good voices) who continues to support me in spirit.

The nurse handed us papers and we blindly signed them. For all we knew we could have been signing over our spleens for the next transplant scheduled.  Or signing off our firstborns for an ice cream cone.  To this day, we don’t know what the papers said, only that we had to sign them.

I watched life leave your body.  In a single moment you went from a living, breathing human being to nothingness.  Standing over you in the hospital I looked at this lifeless shell.

We stood in the hallway, not more than a foot from each other. As if the fear of being separated beyond that, would separate us entirely for the rest of our lives. The hospital staff forced us out to sign papers.  Those stupid papers.

You were left in the room.  Someone will come get her.

After a few minutes, no one was coming. People were supposed to be coming.

Where the hell was everyone?

Is this really what happens when you die?  You’re left in a cold, stark, sterile room with no one watching over you?  A crew comes to sweep up your body, making room for the next tragic victim?

No. No, it’s wrong.  IT’S WRONG!  No one deserves this.  THIS IS NOT OK!

I couldn’t bear the fact you were alone.

Each time I saw her, there had never been any hesitation to hug.  A kiss on the cheek.  A grasp of the hand in support.  Never had there been a moment’s hesitation to show affection love.

Separating from my parents I quietly walked back into the room.  I’d never been more afraid to move in my life.  I had never been so scared to go near her.  When she needed us the most.

Shaming myself for my lack of courage, I stepped over, wiped some stray hair from your face.  I gave you kiss on the forehead and held your hand.

We were told she was brain dead.  All three days you were gone, making it a three-day waiting game for your body to shut down.  It was as if your own body rejected the idea that you were gone.  Your soul, spirit, essence, whatever you want to call it, was no longer with us.

“We love you. You will be missed. I hope you’re ok now.”

You were placed next to your husband. I could rest easy because you will never be alone again.

I love you. I miss you. Wherever you are, I hope you’re ok.

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