Black Cord

A short little story about a young girl diagnosed with end stage melanoma, her fight to hold on to her hope, and to find her courage to let go and accept her fate.

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7. seven. today starts.

They covered her body with a sheet so I wouldn't see. I still looked. They thought she had weeks, maybe months. It was days, hours.

Do you know what it's like to have someone die right in front of you?

Family came. Grieved.

Left.

She was zipped into one of those awful black bags that you see on those crime shows. Kinda resembles a duffel bag. Wheeled away into the morgue. We didnt even get to now each other. Just died.

Gave up.

"There was nothing left she could give," said her sister. Her kids are young. Two and Five. They don't even realize what's happening. I heard the older one tell the younger one, "Mommy's just sleeping. She'll wake up soon." Victoria's sister tried to explain to the older one how "Mommy went to stay with Jesus," but she still didnt get it through to the child.

As soon as Victoria's body-no, as soon as she died, I felt alone. When you hear the flat line, your legs go all tingly and you're just hoping to hell that those doctors will yell 'Clear!" and you'll hear the shock of the defibrillator through the curtain one more time. Give her one more chance to try to fight.

As soon as Victoria died, I was pretty sure I was alone. But I still had a crumb of hope that someone: my mom, my family, would come for me like Victoria's family did.

Hope.

It's frail. But, it's hard to kill if it's really there.

Victoria must have had the fight of her life. She must have had a lot of hope. And she just lost it all. But it wasn't really her that gave up. The cancer consumed her, made her give up. Made her weak. But the hope was there. I'm sure of it. You could feel it radiating through her just by being in the same room. I'm using whatever hope Victoria left behind to increase mine.

 

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