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Died at eleven years of age
#WritcoStoryPrompt16
She held on to the fragile branch with a death's grip as the roaring water threatened to drag her away.
She gasped, the bubbling swirls entering her mouth. There was no hope left...
She hoped there was no hope left. That way her death would be ruled an accident... another horrible twist of fate.
Fate is... well, fate is whatever fate is. Fate made it so her youngest of two children (both boys, three years apart) get cancer... and although he faught like hell to live - climbing all the gigantic mountians during his 18 months of horribe treatment to beat the cancer. When it was finished, he did everything he could to get better, stronger, build his stamnia. He splashed down those mountain waters. First he'd find the calmest waters. On to faster and faster rivers turning to rapids. By the first anniversary, he was going strong and stronger! Five days after this first year cancer free, he had his check-ups. No one was worried - it was the first time even his Mama didn't worry about hearing the cancer coming back. He was doing so, so well!
She sat in his hospital room and waited with his best friend (who also happened to be his brother, three years his senior), her eldest son, and their Mama waiting calmly, the father had left for his shift at the deli counter in the co-op. Elder son playing on his shoe, as per usual. They had little chit chat here and there. She was knitting her Master Piece so she could become a legitemit "Master Knitter" She planned to giving it to her ever amazingly strong, loving, smart, beautiful Mother. Her boys' Grandma. The woman who taught her daughter and grandsons to advocate for themselves and others, to give rather than recieve. She was the most important woman in world in her daughter's world. She put thousands of hours on this intrict lace shawl, making it as perfect as possible and when they'd send back the majestic piece, and her distinction of "Master Knitter" she was gifting it to her mama. About a hundred, maybe two, and it would have been finished… Instead, the boy's cancer doctor came in the never changing hospital room the were so used to,.. looking down at his sneakers, crying. She knew what that meant.
The
Cancer
Is
Back
And
Terminal
"He could live a year, two would be amazing,,,"
She set her knitting down, never to work any part of it anytime soon.
The youngest boy, with the help of his loved ones, made a bucket list. His mama thought going down actual rapids, to signify and put a spot-light on his actual sliding down the mountians that gave him 4 days and one year free of cancer, with an "End Date" assuredly too soon, imprinted t none-the-less.
They checked off so much of the list. The boys' father tended to most of the outings, while she made sure the schedule, reservations, transportation, shelpter, food options, figuring in billls, making sure the eldest was doing his homework, and making calls for absences, and to teachers why a lot of things weren[t getting turned in on time. And the money… the thing that ultimately makes things happen… she made sure the money was there, how much was needed, and how much could be fun money.
They weren't able to raft down any mountian. His father carried him, and sometimes his brother carried him - and they did go into natural spring pools, about a two mile hike in. There was a bit of a white water in the lull of the river between the natural pools.
At the end, the end of the boy, the family, the life, the everything, was over, No rapids happend, Their dad left all the time, no longer being able to stay in the house his boy died in. Her now only son - she still had twi exceptional sons onee was no longer on the same plane of existence.
She felt waves and waves of grief wash over her at anytime, at all the times. After the two year soul date (the date he died) she decided she would do something that scared the shit out of her, and was something the boy wanted to do. She was doing it all by herself. She went white wather rafting, all the while gripping her some cremains of her son's.
She walked into the store after watching hours and hours of how-tos on white water rafting on YouTube. She had the language down pat. She bought all the things she needed for the event of her boy's and her own choices.
It was going well. Then it got rough, and rougher. She held on to the fragile branch with a death's grip as the roaring water threatened to drag her away.
She gasped, the bubbling swirls entering her mouth. There was no hope left… She was used to that feeling - wave after wave rushing over her, awash in grief, Holding on for dear life - when 'dear' was the exact opposite of what and who she was. She thought of her eldest son. The nearly grown man who had to make his life happen because his parents and he were caring for his favorite person - his brother. He kept his mama alive, and he watched as she got the help she needed to become a person that belonged in society - ot at least around people.
Then that branch cracked. Snapped. With the full force of the wave, plus her body weight behind ever snap, crackle, and break. She knew her growni-sh son would be ok without her. She tried, and tried to stay afloat, to find a way out… but she couldn't. Fate finally allowed her to be free of the actual waves of water that cut her airway, got into her lungs, and drowned her. Fate allowed her to be free of the waves of grief that sucked her soul and personhood out of her, even though she was so much better than before.
She wholly left it ti Fate to decide the outcome.
© Jen St George
She held on to the fragile branch with a death's grip as the roaring water threatened to drag her away.
She gasped, the bubbling swirls entering her mouth. There was no hope left...
She hoped there was no hope left. That way her death would be ruled an accident... another horrible twist of fate.
Fate is... well, fate is whatever fate is. Fate made it so her youngest of two children (both boys, three years apart) get cancer... and although he faught like hell to live - climbing all the gigantic mountians during his 18 months of horribe treatment to beat the cancer. When it was finished, he did everything he could to get better, stronger, build his stamnia. He splashed down those mountain waters. First he'd find the calmest waters. On to faster and faster rivers turning to rapids. By the first anniversary, he was going strong and stronger! Five days after this first year cancer free, he had his check-ups. No one was worried - it was the first time even his Mama didn't worry about hearing the cancer coming back. He was doing so, so well!
She sat in his hospital room and waited with his best friend (who also happened to be his brother, three years his senior), her eldest son, and their Mama waiting calmly, the father had left for his shift at the deli counter in the co-op. Elder son playing on his shoe, as per usual. They had little chit chat here and there. She was knitting her Master Piece so she could become a legitemit "Master Knitter" She planned to giving it to her ever amazingly strong, loving, smart, beautiful Mother. Her boys' Grandma. The woman who taught her daughter and grandsons to advocate for themselves and others, to give rather than recieve. She was the most important woman in world in her daughter's world. She put thousands of hours on this intrict lace shawl, making it as perfect as possible and when they'd send back the majestic piece, and her distinction of "Master Knitter" she was gifting it to her mama. About a hundred, maybe two, and it would have been finished… Instead, the boy's cancer doctor came in the never changing hospital room the were so used to,.. looking down at his sneakers, crying. She knew what that meant.
The
Cancer
Is
Back
And
Terminal
"He could live a year, two would be amazing,,,"
She set her knitting down, never to work any part of it anytime soon.
The youngest boy, with the help of his loved ones, made a bucket list. His mama thought going down actual rapids, to signify and put a spot-light on his actual sliding down the mountians that gave him 4 days and one year free of cancer, with an "End Date" assuredly too soon, imprinted t none-the-less.
They checked off so much of the list. The boys' father tended to most of the outings, while she made sure the schedule, reservations, transportation, shelpter, food options, figuring in billls, making sure the eldest was doing his homework, and making calls for absences, and to teachers why a lot of things weren[t getting turned in on time. And the money… the thing that ultimately makes things happen… she made sure the money was there, how much was needed, and how much could be fun money.
They weren't able to raft down any mountian. His father carried him, and sometimes his brother carried him - and they did go into natural spring pools, about a two mile hike in. There was a bit of a white water in the lull of the river between the natural pools.
At the end, the end of the boy, the family, the life, the everything, was over, No rapids happend, Their dad left all the time, no longer being able to stay in the house his boy died in. Her now only son - she still had twi exceptional sons onee was no longer on the same plane of existence.
She felt waves and waves of grief wash over her at anytime, at all the times. After the two year soul date (the date he died) she decided she would do something that scared the shit out of her, and was something the boy wanted to do. She was doing it all by herself. She went white wather rafting, all the while gripping her some cremains of her son's.
She walked into the store after watching hours and hours of how-tos on white water rafting on YouTube. She had the language down pat. She bought all the things she needed for the event of her boy's and her own choices.
It was going well. Then it got rough, and rougher. She held on to the fragile branch with a death's grip as the roaring water threatened to drag her away.
She gasped, the bubbling swirls entering her mouth. There was no hope left… She was used to that feeling - wave after wave rushing over her, awash in grief, Holding on for dear life - when 'dear' was the exact opposite of what and who she was. She thought of her eldest son. The nearly grown man who had to make his life happen because his parents and he were caring for his favorite person - his brother. He kept his mama alive, and he watched as she got the help she needed to become a person that belonged in society - ot at least around people.
Then that branch cracked. Snapped. With the full force of the wave, plus her body weight behind ever snap, crackle, and break. She knew her growni-sh son would be ok without her. She tried, and tried to stay afloat, to find a way out… but she couldn't. Fate finally allowed her to be free of the actual waves of water that cut her airway, got into her lungs, and drowned her. Fate allowed her to be free of the waves of grief that sucked her soul and personhood out of her, even though she was so much better than before.
She wholly left it ti Fate to decide the outcome.
© Jen St George
