Making a move
Her vision
tunneled suddenly
she recognized and the symptoms of her blood pressure was dropping quickly. She
told herself to sit down before she ended up on the floor. It took a while before her vision cleared and she stood
up, continuing the final routine checkup of
the store before closing the night.
She had a disjointed memory from the moment she fell down on the
floor before she was hospitalized. She didn’t make a full recovery after being
dismissed from the hospital. She kind of welcomed the on-and-off physical pains
distracting her from feeling left alone with bottled-up stress.
It was very hard
to go back to sleep for a total of five hours. Sometimes, she jerked awake out
of nightmares, woke disoriented, or stared at the ceiling before dawn, lying on
the bed motionless.
Her daughter deserved a better life, who shouldn’t have to face her mother fighting to gain a couple of more meaningless years, or less, to live. She was long gone before death came. Enough was enough.
The memories of
the sad and the happy had never faded from her heart, which were like things
which just happened not long time ago. It was her daughter she missed everyday
and emotions flitted across her face. When her daughter talked to her at nights
on the phone, she couldn’t even make out her words, or her voice became thick
to utter words. Even though she was on the verge of tears, she always soothed her daughter and convinced her
that she was in good hands here if she needed to go to the hospital.
She wasn’t afraid of the moment when
the Reaper took her life. She was no more anxious about the end of life, but
afraid of being endless -- not quick enough. It would bring her daughter and
herself a hard time to struggle the days under useless medication. What a waste
it was.
Lying in darkness,
her life flashed before her eyes. She had nothing to complain, had she? Her
daughter had a sound family, who was primarily acting so well as a wife to her
husband and a mother to her kids. It took her years to realize that her
daughter belonged to her own family. How could she expect her daughter to visit
her when her grandchildren needed to spend time with their mother to have their
happy family time?
She comprehended
suddenly that she should choose to not suffer but to be positive. Shouldn’t she
be pleased with the fact that she could still handle basic self-care before amnesia was part of her daily life? Wasn’t it a
good idea to close the shop and visit her daughter instead as often as
possible?
She was looking forward to telling her daughter about the decision she made and enjoying each day while she could manage to do it. Yes, she’d write down things which needed to be done and helped her to know what steps she should follow up.
