Queen in Pain

The last few days of my aunt Rebecca were punctuated by intense suffering, incessant whims and visible pain. She bravely soldiered on. The amazon was wasting away as each day unfolded but she chose to hold on. There was life in her eyes; they still radiated her past glory but her frail self is in defiance.

She chose to twist the turns and arguably, she made her final days the most phenomenon of her years. She was generous with her time; her words depicted a rare sense of calm. She thrived in this halo, seemingly her condition imposing, clothed into this explicit individual who was jolly to be with.

Since her cancer diagnosis, Rebecca had slowly turned into a blurry reflection of her former self. Her prosthetics limited her movement before she was indefinitely confined to her bed. Feebly clinging to the apron strings of nostalgia, she literally refused to ail. Her hairline had receded and all she could show off was a bunch of stringy strands on her scalp. She was thinly and weak till she barely walked. She was exhausted, and to me, each day seemed her last.

Every morning I met her ashen face, shared somber moments after which I would softly sob into my hands in her backyard. She preferred to smile instead. She was conceding, her pain notwithstanding, and seemingly growing into an imminent crescendo. I saw her gradually waste away, and even in my sleep her frail voice reverberated in damning tintinnabulations.

It was one of my then not-so-frequent visits that she beckoned me to inch closer. Her voice was reduced to a whisper. She wanted me to call to her bedside, her daughter in Australia. Part of me went numb and for a brief moment silently stared into her weepy eyes. I knew at that moment she was not to live past her fiftieth birthday a fortnight away. I swallowed painfully and was hushed tones till I took to calling Stella.

On a cold night in July, my aunt went to be with the Lord. She died softly in her sleep. I chose not to cry that day. It was most befitting for the queen in pain. Her Bible beside her haggard corpse, she looked like one in her sleep. She was calm, happy in her new state. It struck me I was not to see her again, but I had lived her pain, I had seen the damsel in distress waste away.

Stella was most dispirited. She did not make it to share her mother’s last moments. My dad was dejected. They just didn’t come to terms with the loss. Aunt Phoebe had collapsed at the news.
Burial preparation was intense grief. We all knew how much we would miss Rebecca. She was instrumental, sensational, was our Rebecca.

On a sunny Saturday, my aunt was laid to rest. The requiem mass had been solemn but dignified. She was eulogized as she would have wished with speeches brief and concise. The epitaph was classy and ingenious, and the wreaths, beautiful as she herself had been in her lifetime. I remember it rained that evening.

 

Advertisements
Categories life skills, Lifestyles

18 thoughts on “Queen in Pain

  1. Excellent piece capturing emotions superbly. Intelligent

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey “Someone”,

      Thanks for the compliment. I owe you a cup of coffee from the Netherlands

      Like

  2. Love the flow! Great piece Francis

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hello Someone,

      Hit my inbox with your identity @ +254700459471. I owe you a piece of chocolate from down South or down into the North where the Nile flows.

      You can join me in misusing the language of the queen.

      Like

  3. nice piece …Francis,keep up

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Someone. I would have loved to see your identity.

      Good day!

      Like

  4. Good one Francis, i like the flow

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks!
      I appreciate you for the view. Good day!

      Like

  5. Kaguku This is profound..How yoh flow and the grammar keeps getting better.I am a proud friend.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Jossie for reading through. I value our friendship.

      Like

  6. It’s worth for a re-read! I like your command of the Queen’s language. Keep it up bro

    Like

  7. Great piece sir Mwangi keep it up

    Like

    1. Thanks Liz,
      I appreciate! How goes it?

      Like

  8. great piece

    Like

  9. Waaoo I really like this piece congrats, from now on am officially keeping tabs

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for your compliment and reading.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close