The Wilted Flower

 

❝01the wilted flower;
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                                   Stay with me until I die. That's all I ask of you, stranger.

Life.

The act of releasing one being into the world, yet giving it its "life". To simply be alive, you have a life.

Life is unfair, it gives those who deserve goodness pain, while those who deserve suffering joy. But without life, we wouldn't even know about good and evil, therefore making good and evil nonexistent, therefore making life easier for everyone, but there is no life, so how...

Okay, now I'm confusing myself. I'm thinking too much.

I give my head a shake and walk down the white, squeaky hallways to witness a life's beginning.

But to make a long story short, life is definitely something special. So we should savor it while we still have it, and let go of it willingly when it's time for it to leave.

I search for my mother's room where she was already going through contractions. I cringe, remembering being forced by my mom to witness the "happiest" moment of someone's life on our T.V screen.....

I shut my eyes. Don't think about it, I tell my stubborn self.

Walking through the hospital, I keep my focus on the floor. Many thoughts and images flash through my head, but one stands out from the rest; I've been betrayed.

You see, my mom is a mistress. I'm not exactly proud of that, obviously, but hey, what can I do? That's the way life wanted it. My mom acts as if she were the happiest person on Earth, but I see through that façade. She tries to convince herself that this jerk of a man loves her, when in reality, she's only one of the many women being used. Once they get pregnant, he snaps off all connection with them—at least he pays the hospital bill—and leaves them to the side of the street to die.

Well, not die, but it's just as good as dying, judging by how in love my mom was with this man. She was sure to get her heart broken, but I don't want to tell her what she doesn't want to know. Or what she knows already, but won't admit it.

It's all a game to this bastard. I sigh. 

Hatred stirs in me once I see that the douche didn't decide to show up. Not surprising, but I knew my mother would be devastated. But part of me knows that the hatred isnt only for him, its for my mom. How could she do this? I sigh again. Let's get the birth of this devil-baby over with.

But before I can place my hand on the waiting room's door, a faint call pulls me back. I turn around and look at the room five doors down. 

"Don't leave me...." I hear a murmur.

I knew it probably wasn't a call for me, but I find my feet making the decision to go to room 207 for me. 

The door was open, and on the hospital cot lay an old lady. She stares at me with eyes half closed. "Child, don't leave me."

"I don't even know you," I blurt. My eyes widen, and I quickly mutter "sorry". "Of course, I will." I pull the chair from the wall and drag it next to this stranger's bed. I dust off the seemingly untouched chair and sit down.

"Stay with me until I die," she whispers. She extends her hand to me, and I take it in mine. "That's all I ask of you, stranger."

"I will," I say.

A hint of a smile appears on her thin, chapped lips. "Thank you, boy."

"You're welcome," I reply back. I pause. "Where's your family?"

Her eyes close. "Gone."

"Gone?"

"Just...gone."

I don't question her further.

"They forgot about me a long time ago," she tells me after a while. "My son's off as a doctor with his own family, and of course he wouldn't care if I died." She wheezes and seems to stop breathing for a moment.

My eyes widen. "Lady!" I exclaim.

She cracks a smile again. "I'm fine," she assures me. "Can you call me 'grandma'? I know it's weird, but I just want a member of my family to be here with me."

"Okay, grandma," I say. "But why me? I'm not family."

"Boy, once you're on your death bed, anyone you can find next to you during your last moments is considered family." She opens her eyes again. "And like I said, my son doesn't care."

I don't know why I was here, having this conversation with an old lady who was about to die. Maybe it was the fact that she was dying, or maybe it was just the good in me that told me to stay. Either way, I was still here with my grandma on the day she was going to die.

Her breathing hitches again, and I'm afraid it might be time. 

"I'm leaving soon, son," she croaks. She coughs and wheezes again. "It's almost my time."

My eyes fill up with tears for this person in front of me.

"Are you not afraid of death?" I sniff.

She shakes her head. "Life is very giving, son."

"No, it's not!" I exclaim. "Why would it take you away then? From what I know, you did no wrong."

"I've done lots of wrong in my lifetime, but yet life still let me live till these years, didn't it?" She squeezes my hand when another fit of coughing racks through her. I hold her hand with both of mine. 

"Life is still unfair," I say, looking up at the ceiling and hoping my tears would somehow disappear.

"Once I die, another life will begin." She sighs. "My life is simply a wilting flower. It used to be so beautiful. Pink and orange, the color of the sunset." The corners of her lips tug upwards. "But every flower has to wilt, hmm? So it's finally my time, and with my death, my seeds will provide new life."

I allow the tears to spill. Why was I crying for someone I barely knew? My chest tightens, and I gulp.

"Don't cry, son. Tears will get you no where."

"You're very brave, you know that, grandma?" I tell her quietly.

"Thank you..." she whispers again. The machine next to her beeps unsteadily. Her heart falters. I panic and begin to call for a nurse, but the squeeze of her hand tells me to stay put. "Stay."

And I do. The tears are streaming down my face now, and I do nothing to stop them.

"You know why I was a bad person?" she utters out.

"Why?" I reply, sniffing again.

"I was a mistress. But you know why I don't regret being one?" she asks me.

"Why?"

"Because without me being one.... " she pauses, and her eye-lids start fluttering closed. "I wouldn't have released such a beautiful life into this world. I wouldn't have had my son....."

The machine next to her slows, and she grants me one more smile. "Son, thank you," she repeats for the third time.

Then, she passes.

I sweep my fingers over her eyes, closing them. I look at this stranger in front of me, thinking about the life being brought into this world only five doors down and how my mom loved the man so much, and with a small smile, I say to the empty room, "No, thank you."

And as if in reply, I notice the bright pink and orange flower next to the bed.

 

Bloomed and ready to take on life.

 

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✉(A/N).

HI THERE, GUYS. I LITERALLY JUST TYPED THIS ALL NOW..... I WAS VERY INSPIRED BY THIS IDEA I DREAMED OF, ADN YEAH, IT DIDN'T TURN OUT SO WELL, HUH? IT WASN'T MEANT TO BE SAD. AND IF YOU CRIED, WELL, I DON'T THINK YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CRY. LOL THE MEANING OF THIS WAS THAT LIFE GOES ON. ONCE ONE LIFE IS OVER, ANOTHER ONE IS BORN.

THANK YOU FOR READING!^^
 

( h a r l e q u i n. )