The plinking of the rain reminded her of the day she lost
her little girl. It had also been
a rainy day. So
cliché, she
thought, raining on the worst day of my life. She knew it had been coming for some time.
Chloe had been diagnosed with leukemia when she was only
four years old. The
diagnosis came on the heels of the two-month anniversary of the death of
Sharon’s mother. The news
literally brought her to her knees.
Sharon had only one other child, Matthew. She did not know how she would ever tell him that his little
sister was so sick.
Chloe was unaware of how serious that doctor’s visit
was. She was only four of
course. To her it was just
another check up. Leukemia meant
nothing to her and she quietly played with her snuggle bunny in the
corner. Moving his legs this way
and that, to a song she was singing.
Laughing occasionally as he bent over to touch his toes and shakes his
butt with her music.
She was a sweet girl.
Sharon listened intently to the rain. She had gone back to Chloe’s room for
the third time that day.
Some days she went in often, usually just lying on her bed and clutching
the girls faded patchwork bunny that still had the mustard stain from that day
at the restaurant. Chloe never
went anywhere without her snuggle bunny, and Sharon could still smell her on
it.
She pulled the bunny from her chest and noticed a single
strand of brown hair, which had become woven in to the bunnies’ ear. Slowly she pulled the strand of hair,
being careful not to break it. As it came free she began to think how odd it
was that she was holding a piece of her daughter, when the rest of her was
buried in the ground.
She recalled the day she was getting Chloe ready for her Mothers
funeral. The girl had asked where
her Grandmother was. Heaven,
Sharon had said without hesitation.
She told Chloe that Grandma was probably relaxing somewhere by a river
with her husband who had died when Sharon was 8. That Grandpa Joe was waiting for her to come home to him and
she was now out of the pain that caused her so much misery in life.
Now that Sharon had lost her child she wasn’t so sure that
God even existed. She had been a
devout Catholic her entire life.
But how could this God she had grown up loving and thinking loved her,
could let her baby be taken away before her time was done. It wasn’t fair and she had cursed God lying in her bed
sobbing more times than she could count.
If he existed she hated him now in her grief. More than likely, she thought, he
didn’t. He had been a tale to keep
people peaceful in their last hours.
She thought back to the hospital room in those days of her
time with Chloe. She had tried so
hard to save her tears for when the girl was sleeping. How could she do it? How could she survive without her? How could she survive having her heart
and soul ripped from her? The
little girl that she remembered clutching to her breast after 9 hours of labor,
searching for her breast. The warm
cheek on her chest, the tiny
fingers she held in her hand, and
above all those big brown eyes that could pierce right through you when she
stopped to give you her attention.
She wouldn’t do it.
She wouldn’t let her die.
She was a desperate mother and miracles happened every day, She
remembered hearing so many stories of children responding to treatment and
fully recovering. Her daughter was
strong she could do it. Sharon
imagined telling the story of her miraculous recovery on her wedding day 20
years from now. “ I just knew
Chloe was fighter from the moment she was born” she would say and tears would
fall from everyone at the event.
She would look to her baby girl “you beat it”. But three days later Sharon would be clutching the hospital
sheets, screaming at the doctors that it was their fault, if only they had done more. When she finally had the strength to
rise to her feet and walk out of the room, she looked one more time at her
beautiful girl. Sleeping, she
thought, she’s only sleeping. She
will wake up and wonder why we are all crying. It didn’t happen.
She walked back to her bed.
She held the girls chubby little fingers that she had watched so many
times color her pictures, mold her flowers out of play dough, and best of
all when they would end up on her cheeks while giving her a kiss. Now they would be cold forever. She kissed her forehead, cheek, and finally lips. Leaving her behind for the last
time.
The rest of her day was a blur. She couldn’t remember where she had gone after and she
couldn’t remember who she had seen or what condolences they had offered.
She got out of Chloe’s bed and started looking around at the
girl’s things. All neatly put away,
waiting for her to get better and come home from the hospital. It never happened, she thought.
Sharon had started the process of healing after months of
sleeping all day, wondering how to
put one foot in front of the other.
As she circled Chloe’s chest of toys she noticed the ballet slippers she
had bought her as a gift for Christmas one year. Chloe had decided that she was going to be a ballerina. She would twirl and jump and try to
walk on her toes. The girl loved
the slippers. Sharon caught her, after she had outgrown them, putting tiny fake gems in the toes. Chloe had decided that she would use it
as a treasure holder now that she couldn’t wear them anymore.
Sharon looked in the toe of the right shoe, and saw a red
plastic ruby. She picked it up and
held it to the light, remembering all the little treasures she had found over
that last year. She looked in the
toe of the left shoe and saw a piece of paper that had been neatly folded. “NO” she thought. She had looked in these shoes more than
two dozen times and always pulled out the same red and green gems. Where was the green one? She took out the paper and there it
was, still in the toe.
Slowly she unfolded the paper she had found. How funny, Sharon had thought, pink
construction paper. Pink had always been Chloe’s favorite color. She always had followed every stereotype
for a little girl. Pink, ballet,
ponies, dolls. Not sure what to
expect, or even how the paper had gotten in the shoe she turned it over and
smoothed out the creases.
Sharon had the breath knocked out of her. It was a drawing from Chloe. But it was not one she had ever seen,
and she wondered how it got in the toe of the ballet slipper. On the pink folded paper was a picture
of her with her grandmother and grandfather having a picnic by a river. Under the picture it had the word Happy
written in purple crayon. Sharon
fell onto her hands and knees and wept for the little girl she lost. She wept for the mother and father she
lost. But she also wept for the
joy she felt knowing that they were all taking care of each other and would
greet her when she went home.
<3
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