LAURA

 LAURA

by Ellen Pepper

The last time I saw Laura, she was sitting upright in a hospital bed attached to tubes and appliances put in place "to make her comfortable". She was conscious and alert.

Two of our brothers were in that private room - Laura laughingly called it "The Infamous Dying Palace" because patients who were leaving the planet soon were given their own space for privacy - mostly to contain the weeping and wailing of loved ones saying their goodbyes. Nobody wanted the relatives of other cancer sufferers to be exposed to the grief. After all, some people survive the disease, right? 

Right?

Our youngest brother was on a garlic kick - he chewed clove after clove of the stuff, trying to avoid "catching the cancer germs". When he hugged Laura, she told him that the stench was sickening her. He moved to the far side of the room.

An attendant came in to adjust the pain meds that came out of the wall and went into her plastic face mask via tubes. Strong enough to knock out a horse, the guy said. Laura wasn't even stoned. Just pain-free.

She told us that the doctors were planning to try out a new type of treatment in September. However, this was near the end of June and she was already at the stage where her pain meds were 24/7, so...

Also, when I'd first arrived that day and broke the news that a mutual friend couldn't make the trip down from Toronto with me but was intending to come the following week, she sighed and said that it would be too late.

As the day went on, we spoke of funny things that had happened when we were children and laughed until we cried.

We turned our heads and looked over at the sun-filled window, when the medics came in to tend to her.

Eventually, the time came for me to rush to the  station to catch the last train to Toronto. I touched her hand rather than going in for a hug, fearing to dislodge the medical devices attached to her. She insisted that I hug her hard because, "You never know when you'll see someone again."

When my other brother and I went out to the parking lot, I was saying something banal but was suddenly caught off-guard and started bawling. Bro didn't know what to do, so he was silent until I calmed down. Then he said that miracles can happen and to hold onto that thought. Right.

The next day, another brother flew in from BC to visit Laura. After talking for a while, she asked to have her headrest lowered and said that she was waiting for our mum to arrive so she could leave. She started smiling and pointed at the corner of the room and said, "Look! There are angels in the garden! Its Springtime. So beautiful!"
Laura had never believed in life after death. Religion was not part of her belief system.
Spirituality was laughable and a waste of time to her. And yet, here she was seeing angels.

Mum was late, as usual. She arrived after the angels took Laura away but, even so, a single tear fell from Laura's eye as mum grabbed her and wept. 

And then Laura's aura faded and she was gone.

June 30 1999. Laura was 29 years old.

  ©Ellen Pepper 2023