Sweetest Strings

This can’t be happening! No…no, no, NO!!! “Mom… I’m here. I’m right here,” I cry, holding her hand tightly, my forehead against the back of her warm hand. You’d think someone on the verge of death would have cold hands, at least that’s what I expected, but no. They are as warm as ever before. They gave her a year. She was supposed to have at least a year. Not six weeks! Her eyes roll open for a second. Only once, but it was enough to let me know she knew I was by her side. “I’m sorry, mom. I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeat over and over again. We’ve had a rocky past, things were left unsaid for so long. And now, I won’t ever be able to make them right. I’m so scared of losing her, that I can’t bring myself to tell her that I’m sorry for being so mean to her. For losing my patience when I didn’t want to listen to her. For not being there for her, even though I was mad and upset with her. I can’t even bring myself to tell her that I love her. But I do! The devastation I felt this morning when I got the call left me numb. I drove on autopilot from school to the hospital. I could have run a red light and I don't think I'd have ever noticed. The clock ticks loudly in the room with every haggard breath she takes. Slower and slower as time tik's, tik's, tik's. Then she let out a deep breath, not taking another one in. I think at that moment, my heart stopped too. I straightened up in my chair, still holding her hand while the nurse listened to her heart. I waited and waited, seconds felt like hours until the nurse removed her stethoscope. “She’s gone.” The nurse confirms, breaking my trans. I let out a strangled cry, letting go of her hand and covering my mouth, trying to muffle my oncoming sobs. My father rushed back into the room from getting a cup of water, engulfing me in his arms. We cry and cry until we can barely breathe. My mother is gone. She's gone. Gone... and so am I.