Friday Drabble: The Visit

Remember, a drabble is a very short story of exactly 100 words.  Feel free to join in and write your own drabbles on Fridays and tag them with “friday drabble” and on Twitter with the hashtag #fridaydrabble.

The Visit

I walked into the room and there was Mom was sitting on the sofa.  Maybe she was dozing.  I sat down beside her and touching her arm brought her to a sort of groggy wakefulness.

She was dying.  I knew it.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” she said, a smile lighting her face.

“Hey Mom, you feeling ok?” I asked.

“I’m fine…” she replied, drawing the last word out like she was savoring it.

I wake, upset over losing her again, though she’s been dead five years now.  Yet, as bittersweet as it is, I still treasure seeing her in these subconscious visits.

(Note: My mom’s birthday is tomorrow and the anniversary of her death is next week.  I’ve been thinking about her a lot this week.)

 

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22 thoughts on “Friday Drabble: The Visit

  1. I never regret the fact that I was sitting there in the nursing home when my mom drew her last breath. She didn’t know who I was or even who or where she was because of the dementia, but I knew.

    Good story.

  2. Oh that gave me goose bumps and tears. My mom has been gone for thirteen years and I still get those subconscious visits myself. That was a wonderful Friday drabble Steve.

      • I haven’t had much time on the computer since the kids arrived. lol

        However, I went back this morning and read the story you wrote. I’m writing through the tears now. So many similarities to the story with my mom. A tumor connected her stomach and bowel and she stopped being able to eat at all. They tried the bridge between the two and that didn’t work. They tried the chemo and she just couldn’t take it, so that didn’t work. She decided she wanted to come home to die, so my sister and I with the help of hospice stayed by her side until she was gone. It only took four months from the day they found the tumor. She left us on November 5th. Lot’s of similarities.

        I also, like I said before get the subconscious visits from her. The dreams are so real when I have them about her. What’s really weird is when I see her in my dreams, I know she is gone and I always ask her what she’s doing there. She always smiles and says I came to see you.

        No one ever replaces your mother and for me, it is still painful even after thirteen years. It reminds me that there is still a child inside of me that misses her love and strength and wisdom and especially being held by her.

    • My mom lived to a good age and lived what I think she thought was a good and happy life. I still get emotional when I think of her dying — but it’s not all sadness, even though like you say, the “hole” is there.

  3. I’m sorry to hear that your mother died. Sometimes I think the departed visit us in our dreams, though when I do dream of them they tend to be more like they were in life—argumentative, goofy, wild, stubborn, kind. I rarely relive the moment of their passing.

    It’s going to be a busy weekend for me, but this challenge sounds interesting. I bet I can do this during a quiet lull in the day.

    • Thanks HG — it was a while ago and I never get sad, though I do miss her.

      The drabble is an interesting exercise, b/c you’re so constrained by the word-count, it makes you think about what the true crux of what you want to convey.

  4. I am sorry, Steve, that you lost your mom. I am glad that you still dream about her and think about her. I know she looks down on you and is very proud.

    Your drabble was quite moving. You expressed so much, in so few words!

  5. The other day I saw a Bald Eagle in a field near me. We are not in the typical ‘Eagle zone’ so to speak.

    I mention this because when I saw the Eagle I immediately thought of my Dad, he was an avid collector of Bald Eagle stuff. My Dad passed away April 2nd of this year.

    I treasure every fond memory or dream when I feel the connection of my Dad still being near me.

    • CC — I think those unexpected reminders are the best of those we lost. It’s not just their birthdays that they come to mind, but little things that remind you of them that sometimes make it feel like you’re right there again.

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