This month I will be participating in the “Blogging from A-Z Challenge”
What is it?
I will be Blogging everyday beginning on April First with a topic themed on something with the letterA, then on April second another topic with the letter B as the theme, and so on until I finish on April thirtieth with the theme based on the letter Z. The theme of the day is the letter scheduled for that day.
My theme will be short fictional (well mostly fictional) stories about women. Each woman’s name will begin with the appropriate letter of the alphabet for that day.
All of the women will have the common life experience of a loss of some type.
I invite you, Dear reader, to comment on how you interpret the loss.
This is a companion piece to yesterday’s post titled Tilly.
Jack sat on the edge of his chair next to her bed. Her hand laid limp between his palms. Her breathing was shallow and labored. Community Surgical Supply had delivered two oxygen tanks that morning.
Thin clear plastic tubing wrapped around her ears like eyeglasses. At times she would get restless, or perhaps it was the pain. That’s when she would try to pull the prongs out of her nostrils.
She rallied yesterday. She was alert, almost like her old self. She recognized her children. Her face softened when they brought the newest grand baby to her.
She repeatedly told each of them how much she loved them.
After everyone had gone and they were alone, she smiled and asked him if he remembered the first time they met.
He assured her he did, “My sweetheart,” he said.
She was growing tired, her voice weak.
She reached her hand up to his face and brushed the tears from his eyes.
“I will always be with you,” she promised. “You will never be alone. Wait for me on our special bench,” she said, as she smiled up at him. “Look for me there.”
She closed her eyes and slept.
He stayed by her side as he nodded off and on during the night.
He dreamt of her, the way she was as a girl.
Uma was a likable young woman with a ready smile. She wore her hair in a pony tail that bounced when she walked.
The first time he saw her, he nodded at her, touched the brim of his hat and gave her a wink.
Tilly concentrated intently on the report she was writing. She had been steadily working on it for the past two days.
She was bleary eyed from staring at her computer screen and her neck was starting to ache.
Although she could use a break, she had a deadline to meet.
She stood up, stretched and walked over to the open window. As she leaned on the sill, a silky breeze grazed her hand.
She suddenly felt an uncanny urge to walk along the trail.
She pulled her hair into a pony tail, grabbed her camera, left the office and headed towards the park.
She stopped at the bridge hoping to capture some photos of the fluttering, hopping, scampering wildlife living around and under the bridge. She saw an older man sitting on the bench. He nodded, touching the brim of his hat, then gave her a little wink.