Sunday, September 9, 2012

An Excerpt (from the book I haven't written yet)

She lay alone in bed, wrapped in memories and sorrow. Knowing all too soon the phone would be ringing with news that it had happened. I try to call her often, so she won't be afraid to answer. So we can talk about funny or mundane or serious things that fill up our days.

It may be silly now, but there was a time, a hundred years ago it seems, that she dreamt of being in bed all by herself.  She spent years growing up sandwiched between two sisters, under a pile of blankets and coats when it was cold.  One would say "Roll over, your ear stinks." Begrudgingly, she complied only to have the same sentiment echoed by the other sister once she was settled in. She couldn't help the smell of the home remedy for ear infections. And she couldn't help being the youngest of ten. Now, she'd give anything to be sandwiched between those girls again. Giggling, fighting, telling each other secrets.

When she picked up my phone call she said: "You know at the county fair, they have those ducks floating by that people shoot at?  That's how I feel. Which one of us is next?"  She's never considered herself frail. Far from it. And even though her frame is small, she has broad shoulders and the determination to wake up each morning and face the world and all it will pile on.  But I pray for mercy and grace in the eyes of the Lord, that He would lessen her sorrow.

The sorrow that comes with watching your family fight, suffer, struggle and finally succumb to death. One by one, she's watched her father, her mother, three brothers, two sisters, her companion, and the love of her life all go into battle with failing bodies.  When those phone calls come, the wounds of her broken heart rip at the seams where they were barely just mended. The toll keeps rising as the pit of grief reaches depths she didn't know her heart had.

I pray for mercy and grace. That she be covered in blankets of warm memories, so when darkness comes, her dreams are full of sisters dancing an Irish jig in the middle of a packed living room, laughing until one of them wets her pants; red faced and gasping for air just before the whole family breaks into a roaring chorus of glee.

1 comment:

  1. Hurry up and finish this unwritten book...I want to read more!