Palliative

Disinfectant and loitering death clung to the hallway, during my ritualistic walk through the space,

Intermittent groans, an occasional whisper, my after-hours footsteps- the primary sounds of this place.

She shifted her chair, unwaveringly grateful, while my Nana slept on the bed,

The beeping machines eased her passing; my mother sobbed for what’s ahead.

Round-the-clock vigils: there were no more distractions – books and music went untouched,

As the final process unfolded, it was Nana’s withered hand that she clutched.

Calling out, Nana murmured. Her life - under question, some tribunal inside her mind.

The weight of all her choices, until blessed peace she did find.

In a flash, we were gifted with a tenuous coherence.

Our English Rose – a final goodbye. She wanted to make certain we’d be alright.

Nuancing her wishes, her kindness; she spoke eternal love as she drifted into the light.