By Larry Puls @larrypulsauthor
|Alone, Ovarian Cancer, Death|
Jack saw his children out and tried to sleep, though that needed task was simply not possible. In the dark room listening to the clock, he watched her and willed her to sleep. Please give me another day. Each long breath she took and each slight turn she managed, he drew closer to her side.
At three in the morning, everything changed.
Marcia’s breathing began to slow. Each breath appeared more labored. Repositioning himself on the side of her bed, he studied what was happening. By four in the morning, the color of his wife’s face transformed from a slight dash of pink to consuming gray. Death was no longer at the door. It was barging in, slithering into the room. Her soul was being called home. He wanted to protect her, but what could he offer? Fighting God was not an option. His children needed to be called, but it was too late for that now. Climbing into Marcia’s bed and sharing the waning moments of her life was all he could think to do. Delicately he placed his arm around her side and caressed her for what would be the final time.