A Year: Beginning the End

Oh, where do I begin with the likes of you?

What I remember most is simply not knowing how you did it. No matter how little there was, you always made more. If we ever wanted, you made us forget - food, attention, clothing, love. Most importantly: time. You were a strange and graceful witch.

I guess that's what hit me the hardest. I assumed, along with the rest of your powers, you had found a way to hack time as well, talk the reaper into keeping going next door. And now I need you to help me, help me understand how all of the laughter, all the talking down off tiny roofs, all the ways you gave me strength  now becomes memory. I feel like we missed each other in the end, so I'll tell you.

There were signs days before. A shudder at nothing. A spontaneous Tarot reading out somewhere.

4 of Swords – Sickness, Release from Suffering

9 of Swords – Mental Anguish, Guilty Conscience

Death – Destruction, Transition, Creation

Of course, I was clueless, even after a call from Ken about an incident, a minor milestone, a plot point in the saga. Words like mania, anger, eruption, breakdown, dissolving of systems. You said the nurses were poisoning you. That’s what Ken said. You threw Tommy out of the room. 

Soon you could scarcely speak.  I scrambled to recall the sound of your voice, that honeyed drawl that gave me mine. We took a breath to take it all in. We circled the wagons family style in the kitchen and made a plan. It was agreed: soon it would be 13 hours at 65, snow for the foreseeable future. Soon it would be the last big return home.

…to be continued