It is she that I sit here for. It is she that I am waiting on.
ÃI hear the sounds of my grandchildren laughing. Oh, how it reminds me of her. I do not wish to part form them, but I must leave, for it is the way of life. My children have come to say their final goodbyes. No one wants to admit that my days are drawing close, but I know it well. They stammer in their farewells, never really saying goodbye.
“Remember when we went to France and you side that it was the place you meet the Angel you had been searching for…,” my eldest daughter says, smiling at the memory with tears in her eyes, “we believed it was a real angel…as children do.”
It is their way. I know this. They talk for hours: Kate, my eldest, Liam, the second, and my sweet Lily, the youngest. We talk of old times, but they never say goodbye.
They are leaving. Hugs envelope me before they begin piling into the vans. Tears are shed because I will never see them again. I know this.
Promises of later visits are yelled out the windows of the departing cars and I wave and nod as if agreeing that it will happen. But they won’t. I know she is coming tonight-like I always seem to know.
I eat my last meal. My favorite dish: rice with mushrooms. It is a simple meal. One I had made with her and one that she loved. The rice is over-boiled- a much of white starch, but the mushrooms are juicy and flavorful. I always make it when I think of her.
ÃIt is the same sun I stare at now that had set on the day I first meet her…
An original work by: Jessie K.