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A Cancered Death

The process of dying is like crippling inch by inch, piece by piece. My own cells have turned against me, those who once made me now are killing me slowly and softly because no one can actually hear the screams of pain that shoot though me when I know I may never see the tomorrow, I have been waiting to see.

Some day’s back I could still make mango shake for my dear’s because they love it and now I can barely even think straight. I think I see them here with me, attending to me like I once did to them. It is humiliating and at times like this and I wish death were upon me already, because this helpless and pain I feel has actually already killed me, all that is left is memories of a time when I wanted more for all those close and dear when I could still smile and hope for my son’s return.

On rare moments like this I think I realize I am in delirium most of the time…yesterday I saw my grandson here with me but today I find just empty walls surrounding me. The loneliness grips me and I want to cry out in pain and fear for I have no idea what waits for me on the yonder. I want to call my daughter but words fail me and so do my hands, I grow frantic at the thought of not finding her. She is lost? Will she be alright? And then my vision clears and I see her right beside me holding my hands, helplessly watching and fighting the fact that the time has come when I have to leave.

It’s just about seconds now and seeing her beside me has eased my fear. It’s been sometime since I have reconciled to the fact that its time to leave, because my heart will never stop wanting more, wishing for more. I see her as beautiful as she was on the day she was born and want to watch her till my last breath, so I struggle to hold my eyes open and look at her, pass on all the good that I have to her, I wish I could tell her things will change and that there is hope for a better tomorrow always… but breathing is more difficult now and my already blurred vision is… fading…fading…fading.

5 comments:

Goutham said...

Who is the narrator? Quite factual. Nice! :)

fullmoononearth said...

Why is death always considered painful?? Why don't we ever want to see it as another beautiful phase of our er... life?? (couldn't think up a better word)
But why?? Why don't we believe that we can be back (I guess we can. I still believe in "where there is a will there is a way") I may sound absurd. As absurd as anyone who talks about death, coz no one who's seen death is there to tell us what is possible and what's not.

Caffeinism said...

@Fme- Sorry gal, Dying of cancer is no where near beautiful or pretty.It is painful(physically and mentally) in extreme and is the worst kind of fate...

Infact death is not a pretty thing at all...esp when you know that your days are numbered...and everyone around you is also aware of it...I have no words to express it...

Neeti said...

I shouldnt have read that now in the office.

Expressions said...

This is written so well...it clearly shows how deeply u have been disturbed by this dear one's death....

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