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Rated: · Essay · Death · #1386996
On the death of a son.

In Another Blink of an Eye
As she gazes into his eyes, she sees him as she first saw him, a newborn. She was one in three on this earth to first see this face; the Doctor, the nurse, and herself, his mother.
She brushed the hair off his forehead and remembers comforting him this same way so many years ago, so many times: the day they brought him home from the hospital, his first cold, after falling from his first steps, his first day of school. So many first’s that she got to share with her son.
He had a tired look on his face, like he used to have after playing all day. She had to make him come in to eat and rest. The next day he would be right back at it, playing with his big brother, riding horse back, maybe a little showing off.
He grew up to be a big, strong man, towering over his brothers and his father. But there were still times he needed his Mother’s comforting touch: when girls broke his young heart, when his friends died senseless deaths, and when he went off to war. He survived all of that with his Mother’s love and support.
And now they were done with their first’s. They were now experiencing lasts. The last time she would see this face, the last time she would brush his hair off the forehead, the last time she would have him rest. For him it was the last time he would need his Mother’s comfort. It was the last time he would need anything. It was his last day in this world. Her son was dying. She had gone through so much with this child who was a dying man. In the blink of an eye, he had gone from newborn to this. It was not right. A mother is not supposed to bury her son. She didn’t want to think of that. She thought, instead, of his childhood and didn’t want to miss a second of her remembrances. She smiled and when she looked at him again, she saw he was smiling too. She wiped away the tears hiding behind her smile. In another blink of her eye, he was gone…
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