I was seven years old when the one thing most kids imagine as the worst thing possible, happened to me. I sat at the kids table in the hospital, with my brother and cousins, as a nurse tried to explain to us what had happened. I was pretty quiet. “I understand”, I told her again and again just to shut her up. All of us sat, nonchalantly, as we let her words sink in. No tears sprang up from any of us, just thoughts. She rambled on and on about how death makes way for new life and how if nobody died, we’d all be crowded. Making death sound like it was natures way of spring cleaning.

After her stuttery explanation, my dad showed up and ushered my brother and I to see her. She was cold, and her skin was the lightest shade of lavender. Not much was said, as speech did not seem appropriate at the time. Just remorse, grief, and mourning. And silence.

Soon enough the anxious nurse returned, to take us back to the kids room. She gave each of us a toy dog. And I took Sam.


2 responses to “Sam

  1. I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose one’s mother like that, it must have been horrible. The way you write about it in this post is very moving.

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