“The First Time I…”

(Week Two assignment for Dr. Melissa Crowe, Intro to Creative Writing. 9/14/13.)

The first time I saw someone dying,

Gone long before the end.

I knew the day had come.

Your eyes, once twinkled at a private joke or scolded when I pushed too far,

unseeing.

Your mouth, that taught me to sing and kissed away my tears,

silenced.

Your curls, the tiny reward from your first fight with this dread disease,

Unfurled and limp, stuck to your head in feverish sweat.

The calming scent of your perfume

replaced by the stench of disease.

Your arms and hands that nursed, held, and comforted me,

unfeeling and unmoving.

Your body rattled with each breath, eons passing between them.

I gently hugged your fragile shoulders and kissed your forehead;

“I love you, Mum.” I knew your love, too.

Death came for you that night.

Bill MacDonald

9/14/13