Musings from an Old Phone #4 / by Rachel Chin

30/11/2015


I see a vision of my late grandmother in her movement

The same loss of balance

Tipping backward, then leaning forward to steady herself as she takes a step,

Leaning on the wall for support

She's grown so thin.

When did she grow so thin

The pleading

Him pleading for her to eat, her pleading for him to stop, begging him to stop and just let her be

The frustration.

Her fist in the air pounding on an imaginary table

I can't. I can't. I can't.

Please. Just a little bit more

Please. Please

Glory be to the father

Snatch the white plastic bag from the ground

Retch, tears, her whole body quaking, coughing, retching

To the son and to the

Most people feel better after purging their stomachs

There's an end to the sickness

It'll get better

Soon

Later

Not for her

For her the spinning won't stop in a few days, won't stop in a few weeks

There is no after this

Retch, gulp the air, sip some water, retch, repeat, can't breathe

And it hits then

She's dying.

Right before our eyes

Streaks of saliva on the pillow she's been hugging to fight the pain

Where were we?

O my Jesus, forgive us our sins