My first attempt at writing. I actually wrote this because I needed to write 1000 words in the bookwriting software Dabble, for the discount. Any way, here tis.
I cradled my dying son in my arms. He was only 12 and dying of cancer.
How did it come to this? Why us? 12 is too young!
This was not what I envisioned at the start. I ruffled his beautiful dark hair and placed my face close to him.
I could feel his breath and his beating heart. The harsh hospital lights contrasted with the soft light coming through the window. Why did I even bring him here?
Why not let him have his last moments at home, at peace?
My mind drifted back to happier times.
When I first brought him home. He was so small! So helpless.
So utterly beautiful! Of course, because he was mine.
And bright, oh so very smart. Too intelligent for his own good, I used to think.
He grew quickly and learned everything you should learn very early.
Potty training was a breeze, not like what some parents experience.
I once knew a woman who had 12 children. I recall asking her how she potty trained them.
She answered, “I never potty trained any of them. And you know what? Not one of them went to college in diapers!”
After that, I relaxed. And he never wet the bed.
Yes, he went through that testing phase that all kids go through.
But I had read all the books and felt confident that I could handle any situation.
It turns out, I pretty much could.
He was all boy, and a certain amount of aggression comes with that, but he learned to temper it and got on well with almost everyone. And everyone loved him.
I thought back to the peaceful and soul-filling times we spent when I wasn’t working or busy with chores.
We hiked in the mountains quite a bit. When I couldn’t make time for that, we went to the local Park. He learned to swim quite early and took to the water like a duck.
I had to keep a close eye on him after that, as he would go splashing about in the water whenever he got the opportunity.
Like the time we were strolling through the outdoor mall. It has a stream running the length of it, with cute little bridges that let you cross from one side to the other, and fountains every few yards. He plunged into the fountain and started splashing around in it, having the time of his life! He was around 4 or 5 then, I think. I was embarrassed, as I could usually take him anywhere by then and he would be on his best behavior. But I worried for nothing; everyone who saw him laughed with delight; he was obviously having so much fun, something we all long to do.
Adults leave behind that innate ability to revel in the glory of life. I think he reminded everyone of the importance of play.
We played ball together. He didn’t care for football or basketball but loved baseball. Like me, he loved running. At my age, I found it hard to keep up, but did my best, and it was good for my health.
I did not believe in a structured teaching system, so I homeschooled him. But basically, he taught himself, I just laid down guidelines. Did I mention he was intelligent?
I made sure he had lots of opportunities to play with the other kids, to make sure he was socialized. He ended up being very outgoing.
No interest in video games, no cell phones for him. He was a nature lover, like his mom.
Oh, he wasn’t perfect, I got the usual backtalk from him that every parent gets.
I put up with a certain amount, knowing he needed to express himself.
No matter what, at the end of every day, he spent the evening with me in the living room, whether sitting beside me on the couch watching TV, or happily playing with some toy or occasionally, when he was bored enough, teasing the cat.
I always knew that with him beside me, life was richer than it could possibly be otherwise.
Cause, kids are like that. I hadn’t planned on a child in my life, but you know what they say, life happens!
As he grew older and stronger, he seemed to become solicitous of me. Always looking out for me, somewhat protective.
Did I do the right thing by him? I dunno. But I did my best. I cooked for him, made sure he got his annual checkups, made him take his vitamins. I spared no expense, he was my only son.
He seemed happy. An outgoing lover of life. Not a deep thinker per se, but more a philosophical acceptance of the vicissitudes of living that insured a stress free existence.
How the time flew by! I hadn’t noticed.
Christmases with lots of presents and toys all over the living room floor, a stocking stuffed with way too much. Is there such a thing? I can hear my grandmother’s voice in my head, “You’ll spoil him!” And I would reply,” Too much love never spoiled anyone, but lack of love always will.”
And now, here we are. The minutes tick away his life. The cancer was found too late to do anything about it. The treatments would only have caused more agony, more pain.
I cradle him close, unwilling, unable to let go, even though I know the time approaches. His body is thin, his breathing labored. His eyes flutter open and he looks into mine.
“I’m here, I whisper.”
Too weak to even raise his head, all he can do is look at me, and that look says more than words ever could,
That look says, Thank you mom, for being the best mom ever.
Thanks for always being there for me, providing the best life ever.
Thanks for all the love.
The Doctor approaches with a syringe and injects something into the IV.
“For the pain,” he says.
My beloved boy slips away.
“Do you want us to take care of the body”? he asks.
I shake my head through the tears, as I gather up the body of my beloved Labrador Retriever.
“I’ll bury him in my backyard,” I say as I leave the veterinary clinic.
I cradled my dying son in my arms. He was only 12 and dying of cancer.
How did it come to this? Why us? 12 is too young!
This was not what I envisioned at the start. I ruffled his beautiful dark hair and placed my face close to him.
I could feel his breath and his beating heart. The harsh hospital lights contrasted with the soft light coming through the window. Why did I even bring him here?
Why not let him have his last moments at home, at peace?
My mind drifted back to happier times.
When I first brought him home. He was so small! So helpless.
So utterly beautiful! Of course, because he was mine.
And bright, oh so very smart. Too intelligent for his own good, I used to think.
He grew quickly and learned everything you should learn very early.
Potty training was a breeze, not like what some parents experience.
I once knew a woman who had 12 children. I recall asking her how she potty trained them.
She answered, “I never potty trained any of them. And you know what? Not one of them went to college in diapers!”
After that, I relaxed. And he never wet the bed.
Yes, he went through that testing phase that all kids go through.
But I had read all the books and felt confident that I could handle any situation.
It turns out, I pretty much could.
He was all boy, and a certain amount of aggression comes with that, but he learned to temper it and got on well with almost everyone. And everyone loved him.
I thought back to the peaceful and soul-filling times we spent when I wasn’t working or busy with chores.
We hiked in the mountains quite a bit. When I couldn’t make time for that, we went to the local Park. He learned to swim quite early and took to the water like a duck.
I had to keep a close eye on him after that, as he would go splashing about in the water whenever he got the opportunity.
Like the time we were strolling through the outdoor mall. It has a stream running the length of it, with cute little bridges that let you cross from one side to the other, and fountains every few yards. He plunged into the fountain and started splashing around in it, having the time of his life! He was around 4 or 5 then, I think. I was embarrassed, as I could usually take him anywhere by then and he would be on his best behavior. But I worried for nothing; everyone who saw him laughed with delight; he was obviously having so much fun, something we all long to do.
Adults leave behind that innate ability to revel in the glory of life. I think he reminded everyone of the importance of play.
We played ball together. He didn’t care for football or basketball but loved baseball. Like me, he loved running. At my age, I found it hard to keep up, but did my best, and it was good for my health.
I did not believe in a structured teaching system, so I homeschooled him. But basically, he taught himself, I just laid down guidelines. Did I mention he was intelligent?
I made sure he had lots of opportunities to play with the other kids, to make sure he was socialized. He ended up being very outgoing.
No interest in video games, no cell phones for him. He was a nature lover, like his mom.
Oh, he wasn’t perfect, I got the usual backtalk from him that every parent gets.
I put up with a certain amount, knowing he needed to express himself.
No matter what, at the end of every day, he spent the evening with me in the living room, whether sitting beside me on the couch watching TV, or happily playing with some toy or occasionally, when he was bored enough, teasing the cat.
I always knew that with him beside me, life was richer than it could possibly be otherwise.
Cause, kids are like that. I hadn’t planned on a child in my life, but you know what they say, life happens!
As he grew older and stronger, he seemed to become solicitous of me. Always looking out for me, somewhat protective.
Did I do the right thing by him? I dunno. But I did my best. I cooked for him, made sure he got his annual checkups, made him take his vitamins. I spared no expense, he was my only son.
He seemed happy. An outgoing lover of life. Not a deep thinker per se, but more a philosophical acceptance of the vicissitudes of living that insured a stress free existence.
How the time flew by! I hadn’t noticed.
Christmases with lots of presents and toys all over the living room floor, a stocking stuffed with way too much. Is there such a thing? I can hear my grandmother’s voice in my head, “You’ll spoil him!” And I would reply,” Too much love never spoiled anyone, but lack of love always will.”
And now, here we are. The minutes tick away his life. The cancer was found too late to do anything about it. The treatments would only have caused more agony, more pain.
I cradle him close, unwilling, unable to let go, even though I know the time approaches. His body is thin, his breathing labored. His eyes flutter open and he looks into mine.
“I’m here, I whisper.”
Too weak to even raise his head, all he can do is look at me, and that look says more than words ever could,
That look says, Thank you mom, for being the best mom ever.
Thanks for always being there for me, providing the best life ever.
Thanks for all the love.
The Doctor approaches with a syringe and injects something into the IV.
“For the pain,” he says.
My beloved boy slips away.
“Do you want us to take care of the body”? he asks.
I shake my head through the tears, as I gather up the body of my beloved Labrador Retriever.
“I’ll bury him in my backyard,” I say as I leave the veterinary clinic.
