My feet were frozen in that spot,
fused to the hideous green carpet in the stairwell of my mother’s apartment. As
I watched the two paramedics struggle to wheel the large gurney through the
narrow opening of my mother’s wooden trimmed apartment door, I went numb.
Nanas' facial expression was one of complete exhaustion. Her body lay still,
weak and frail and barely recognizable from the Grandmother I grew up loving.
Yes, her hair was still in locks but now they had grayed. Yes, her skin still
smelled of sweet lavender but it no longer had a bright shine. She had always
been thin framed but now she was mostly skin and bones; outside of her
distended stomach that gave her the appearance of being with child. The cancer
had robbed her of the glow that was once synonymous with her. As I surveyed my
best friend, I convinced myself if I didn’t tell her that I loved her that she
couldn’t die. She locked eyes with me momentarily then as she rounded the
stairwell she expended a flimsy but sincere smile. I just stared. I should have
used the last moment that I would lay eyes her alive, to tell her just how much
she meant to me and how much I did and still love her.
