color

Today marks two weeks. A week since our shared birthday that we didn’t get to share this year. Two weeks since we sat in the hospital, my aunt crying next to me that she knew this was “it”. Two weeks since I watched them resuscitate her over and over, breaking her apart in an effort to bring her back.

The night before, she’d been in a lot of pain. I laid next to her and rubbed her stomach for a while as she made painful sounds. My aunt tried to help her stop making the noise for my sake, but it didn’t last long. I tried so hard to stay there and keep rubbing her stomach until she fell asleep, but the noise she was making was getting to me. I got up and told her goodnight, and went to bed. I know this is unreasonable regret, but I should’ve stayed there with her.

The next morning, I had to get going early and didn’t want to wake her up. She heard me come downstairs and began to stir, so I rushed out before she could say anything. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve at least said goodbye.