Short story winner: Love and Care
The Fragility of Life, Sara Turton
It was a sullen autumn morning when I met you.
A busy nurse asked me to take you a mug of black coffee without sugar,so I prepared your drink, placed the speckled cup upon a small tray and walkedalong the angled corridor to your room passing various doors, a few closedbearing laminated signs of not to disturb.
The door to your room was open; you were sitting by the window in an armchair to the left of your bed, dressed and reading a newspaper.
You looked up and greeted me with a warm smile, “Come in” you said in soft Scottish accent.
I entered; classical music played quietly from a radio channel, a small cabinet to the left of your bed was home to a vase of burgundy carnations and a photo of you and your wife. I passed you your coffee and introduced myself as a humble hospice volunteer.
Every Saturday morning thereafter,I would take time to listen to your story about you leaning to dance, finding love in the 1960s, travels from Scotland and much more.
Your observations were unique, “you can tell a lot about a person by the way they walk’, you recalled a memory about a teacher who taught her pupils to walk as if following a single painted line below their feet.
Music is your passion, you relived the time you heard classical music played for the first time, the music moved emotionally, a memory that will never fade.
As time passed we slipped into winter, this will be your last Christmas, a humbling fact, life is fragile, we need to value and appreciatethose around us as we may never have a second chance.
January gave us a cold embrace, your muscles were starting to deteriorate and no longer could you sit in yourarmchair thus confined to your bed. I recall the time fear overcame you, tears ran down your pale skin, you took my hand “I am so afraid”you said “please do not forget me”.
Time passed and you became very weak,one Friday night your illness consumed you and left you no energy to fight, from that last battle you did not wake.
The following morning, with permission, I walked down the corridor, arrived at your room, door shut and bearing a sign of not to disturb.I opened and shut the door behind me, your room was dark and quiet where you lay in the shadows, you looked peaceful, no more pain or suffering, theonly tears now were my own. “Thank you for time we shared” I whispered.
The sun shone brightly for your funeral,many attended, I sat alone on a bench that overlooked the entrance to the cemetery to see you arrive,music started to play in the chapel.
You taught me life is precious as is love and to respect and care for others as we follow our own dreams.
I promise I will never forget you.