It rained today. At times it seemed like the end of the world was coming. Down and down, the water fell from the sky.
If she couldn’t cry, the weather would do it for her.
She looked down at the thin, paper-skinned hand in hers. This hand was cold, covered in purple and black bruises. The hand that belonged to the woman who lay reclined in the special bed, with the special sheets, and the special accessories.
“Is there anything you want to know?” the woman asked.
“No,” she said gently but loud so the woman could hear her. And all she could think of asking was what had happened between this woman and her daughter to cause the underlying current of displeasure that was present in both of them.
What had happened for them to be this way towards one another? What was it about the mother and daughter relationship that drove two women apart instead of together? There were so many elements that it could have been, but none of them seemed to answer for the pain and unease the two had around each other. She thought it might have been the shame that came from not being able to financially take care of oneself, or maybe the disappointment of not living up to expectations, or choosing a different path than the one you had set out on.
Maybe there was a power play here between mother and daughter, but wasn’t there always a power play in that relationship? None that she could think of, yet there was so much she didn’t know.
There were so many elements at play, but no specific one that she could think of as being the one that would cause a rift that would fester like an open wound for nearly 45 years. Yet there was so much she didn’t know.
“No,” she confirmed. “I don’t need to know anything more than I do.”
The woman sighed and leaned her head back on the pillow as if her head were too heavy for her neck. And that was likely the case.
The woman closed her eyes. Within minutes she was sleeping.