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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1975223-A-chill
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by RDLer Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Other · Death · #1975223
A brief family story that is worthy of the title.
One hour at the most. That's all he had been given, one hour. He had survived war, poverty and pain and yet he's given only a hour to live. Father had suffered three massive strokes within the last month. the first one hit the hardest hospitalizing the man my brothers and sisters called father. They had given up, "He's gone Bell that's not our father anymore, no memories, no way to know whats happening to him, he cant even speak or understand the thoughtful words we aim towards him anymore." I hated that i started to believe them but the least they could have done is come visit one last time, instead of lying and giving piss poor excuses. As i stood beside my father's egg white hospital bed my baby girl Emma started to moan and whimper. As soon as we entered the room her eyes were fixed upon Dad. It hurt knowing that she had never gotten to meet her grandfather, to know how charming, funny and stupid he could be. She had never even been held by him and felt safe in his strong old farmer arms. Anger started to flow through my body and it sickened me that no one came. I placed little Emma on the bed with her Grandfather and decided to call one last time, i needed someone to be here with me. It was to hard to face this alone. Before leaving the room i watched Emma crawl up to my Dad's face and started to giggle as her little hands went for his nose. It was so cute i wanted to allow tears to fall and my knees to buckle. Instead i left the room to make one last call.


It was no use, they weren't coming. I walked back to the room and stood in front of the door allowing air to fill my lungs before entering. It was all i could do to contain the unhinging grief. It felt like chains were starting to break and soon the gates holding back the inevitable flood would open. Then i heard giggles and laughter, not just from a a baby girl but from a rich deep voice. I was presented with the sight of my father holding Emma and sitting up. I watched as both of them seemed to look towards the wall watching a moving object. Their eyes were in sync as they simultaneously followed something as it would go up to the ceiling and down to the floor. I slowly walked to Dad and asked knowing what the doctors had said, he couldn't respond, " Dad what are you two looking at?" To my surprise he turned to me and smiled, " Were looking at the angels Bella, cant you see them?"
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