You can’t be mildly obsessed with a quote and not write about it right? It doesn’t make sense. Mark my words I will base something else off this quote at some point, it creates so many ideas in my head that I never know what to do with them all.
Sadie sat in the hard plastic chair and waited. Listened hard to the currently rhythmic beeping that would soon flat line then halt all together. The final noise her mother would ever make.
Kind of. More accurately it would be the final noise that the machine pointlessly trying to keep her alive would make. But Sadie had finally accepted that her mother’s brain wasn’t going to kick back into life any time soon. She accepted that her mother wasn’t going to walk out of her hospital room singing Bohemian Rhapsody completely off key and smiling with crinkly eyes and wispy grey hairs framing her face. She wasn’t going to be grinding vanilla coffee beans first thing in the morning. The house wasn’t going to smell like lavender detergent and the living room wasn’t going to be lit by apple and cinnamon candles.
Her mother just wasn’t going to be there. Not anymore.
As Sadie sat and thought about her empty home she also thought about how her dad had called saying not to be home late. A call saying that he and her mum were just getting in the car and that she shouldn’t be home to late. A call that was made just to be parental. Yet that was it. The last call. The last ‘be home before 10’ he would ever tell and all Sadie had said was ‘yeah whatever, I will’
Twenty minutes after that, another call. The call. The call that found that stray bit of thread at the seam and pulled at it. Unraveled it. Created this giant hole in the fabric of Sadie’s life.
Dad dead on impact, Mum critical. Brain dead. Relying on a machine that just wouldn’t help.
And now she’s sat here. On a hard plastic chair waiting for the flat line. For a nurse to come and rest a useless reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Sadie crumples briefly then stands up and strides out of the hospital. Walks. And walks and walks.
All roads lead to home. And that was where she was. Standing in her parents sunrise tinted room. Bed half made, make up strewn all over the vanity table and a pile of freshly washed clothes waiting to find their rightful place.
Sadie picks up a t-shirt, her dad’s, and wraps herself in it. Inhales the lavender and the distinct, comforting underlying sense of her dad. Basks in it. Ignores the wetness on her face. Just focuses on the t-shirt of the man that made her feel better when she was feeling low.
Remembers when she was feeling at her lowest. And the t-shirt was being worn by the best sense of comfort she had and he had muffled into her hair, ‘Sadie just remember what Churchill once said and what got me through my toughest times, “If you’re going through hell…keep going”‘
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