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Not Forgotten
Mom lost her best friends that morning.
For days afterward, she came home late, covered in dust, her eyes seeing me, yet also seeing beyond as she hugged me too tightly and repeated, “What have we come to?”
A picture of the four of them grew creased as survivor’s guilt plagued her. Then a chest-rattling cough took over.
“It’s nothing,” she said, until the night her tissue bled red.
By then I wasn’t a kid anymore and understood.
While holding my hand, she drifted away. Outside particles of dust seized by a September breeze soared, then disappeared from view.
end 9/23/2017
Sascha Darlington
Says so much with few words. Nice!
Thanks so much, Anne!
A sad but lovely and effective ending, Sascha.
Thank you so much.
We are all just dust in the end. Lovely.
Dear Sascha,
Such a sad story. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thank you, Rochelle.
A poignant tale with a beautiful ending. Delightful Sascha.
Maybe I read something else into that dust than just the passing away… the dust could been the cause of death to me… like the dust after a nuclear bomb
That’s exactly what I had in mind. Some of the people who helped after 9/11 succumbed to diseases directly related to the dust they inhaled since few used respirators. Thanks, Bjorn.
Or Hiroshima maybe?
A beautifully told story on a not-so-beautiful topic. Well done.
Thank you, Sandra.
Scary and well done.
Thank you! 🙂
The ones destined to be left behind suffer as much or perhaps, more than the victims who pass away . I feels sad about the sad helplessness of the survivors.
Extremely well written,as always.
Thank you, Moon. What you say is very true!
Loved this. I wouldn’t have understood it when I was 20, but 50 years tends to change one’s perpective 🙂
Yes, I agree with you. I am certainly open and able to understand things better than when I was 20.