The horizon was golden-yellow and the distant hills looked like tall giants from where I sat. The sun was already setting and I was spending the final minutes before darkness reading one of the story books I had borrowed from a friend. The setting sun reminded me of my ailing mother and I hoped she would live to see the next day. I did not want her to set just the way the sun did. She was the pillar of my life and I drew strength from her. My mother was fighting a serious disease that had rendered her weak. The enthusiasm with which we would approach dinner time was all gone. I no longer looked forward to dinner time like the past years when my mother was a jovial woman. From the look in her eyes, I could figure out that she had lost hope, as they had lost the usual sparkle.
I was startled by a gentle touch on my shoulder. That is when I realized that I had been gazing into an empty sky for over an hour. My white dress had led my mother to where I was sitting hopelessly. Her hand was so cold that I though some cold metal bar had landed on my shoulder. Her once soft hand had turned into something hard, something lifeless. “Deborah, I have been looking for you”. With the help of the light that came through the window, I could figure out my mother’s teary eyes. “Do not worry my daughter. I will be fine”, my mother struggled to assure me that all would be well. She told me that my father had promised to take him to hospital the next day. I stood and hugged her for a long time and I soaked one of her shoulders with tears.
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The door opened and the light from the house chased away the darkness from where we stood. My father was standing at the door gesturing us to enter the house. The light behind him drew a gigantic shadow that stretched to the footpath in front of our homestead. The shadow exaggerated the size of his hands, as they swung from one tree to another. We slowly went into the house where I led my mother to her chair. I could see that she was impressed with the food father had prepared. My brother Lawrence was already seated ready to take dinner. The food was so delicious that Lawrence cleared his plate in minutes. I wished I had his appetite. My mother ate little of it with difficulty. I think she did not want to downplay her husband’s hard-work in preparing the food. After dinner, my father indicated that he was concerned about my grades. I had dropped in my class and I had performed badly in math. I told her I was worried about mother’s condition.
My mother was taken to hospital the next day. It was like the whole home was taken to hospital. The usual warmth in the house had gone. I felt helpless. The few days my mother was in hospital seemed centuries. I remember visiting her in hospital two times and I did not like what I saw. She was constantly in pain and she once failed to recognize me. As a religious girl, I believed God would finally heal her. After several trips to and from the hospital, father finally broke the bad news, mother was no more. I accompanied him to hospital the next day. We did talk all the way to hospital and he kept shaking his head. I have never seen father so desperate. At the hospital, a doctor called him. He firmly held my hand and asked me to follow him. We entered a white walled room where a bespectacled man with bulbous eyes sat. The doctor, I came to learn, asked for my father’s permission to take a sample of some kind from mum. My father vehemently declined.
Reference
Skloot, R. (2017). The immortal life of Henrietta Lacks . Broadway Books.
