I drove on the still-dark highway, twilight had not yet come before the sun rose. Everyone's dying. The trees are barren and scraggly like my Grandmother's hands that clutch the nurse button in the hospital. "Thanks for calling, have a beautiful day" is how her voicemail ends in her voice that quavers like a leaf in November. She is the most beautiful color of Fall, quavering on the strands of her branch. It's almost dissolved, her connection to the branch, to her tree. It stresses me out, feeling so rushed, so rushed to get it all in to say it all to hug her again and smile and see her smile her brownish blue eyes, so strange for a sicilian woman. There are things I need to know from her! About her, about food and her life, and the family. There are laughs we've yet to share! There are fragile bird-like hugs I have yet to give her fearing the whole time I'll crush her. It's so selfish too that it is stressing me out. She has had a beautiful day. A beautiful life. If she wants to stop clutching to the tree, that is up to her.
My grandfather sat at the dining table on Thanksgiving, his sugar plummeting. Sarah saw him sneak some M&Ms, he didn't have enough to eat. He always says the blessing. Always says Grace. He couldn't this year, we skipped right over it while he mumbled to himself and giggled once or twice and we encouraged him to eat eat eat. Sugar, have jello, have cranberries, potatoes, quick sugar carbs in your blood now. And after ten minutes of sitting on pins he came back "Cindy's just sore she sucks at euchre."
I hate being so afraid of losing so many people all at once. I'm scared my family will be down 5 members in one year. The worst part is having no one to talk to about it.
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