Face wrinkled; the folds seem to grow by the minute.
Drained of blood; life seems to be slipping off silently from her weak body.
Eyes closed, as if in a deep sleep; in peace with the world.
Hair scantier and whiter than ever; her age suddenly seems doubled.
Thin tubes running through her nostrils, lips slightly agape.
A wired clip on a finger of her left arm and an I.V. adorning it; rudely needled into a bulging blue vein on the back side of her palm.
My old woman was feebly fighting with death and we all know the outcome of the struggle.
I see no movement in her. She is as still as a stone.
The machine behind me is still beeping rhythmically and the quickly disappearing misty film in her oxygen mask is being replaced continually; I understand that she hasn't yet given in.
I walk away from her, stand at the window, looking out at nothing in particular.
"What should I do now?" I ask myself, "Whom should I turn to when I'm distressed? Whom should I seek when I need company? Who will be there for me, with me in this old age?"
Our fights, our reconciliations; Our arguments, our agreements; where would they all go now? Am I supposed to be content with memories, just memories?
I feel blank and numb, as I recollect the life I'd spent with her:
The beautiful girl, who blushed red the first time I looked into those pretty little eyes.
The wonderful lover, who easily slid into my arms when I sought her arm.
The sensitive dame, who shed tears when I was angry with her.
The passionate woman, who cried out of happiness when we were united in a wedlock for ever.
The crazy lady, who screamed and hurled things at me when she was mad at me.
The loving mother, who was the best my kids could ever have.
My best friend, my solace, my love and my everything.
Unconsciously, I smile as I remember every phase of our lives we'd had together-the good moments, the bad ones, the bittersweet times that we had shared-the first touch, the first kiss, the first child, the first house, the first car...the last kiss, the last breakfast together, the last fight, the last holiday... the first everything and the last everything.
I go back to her and touch the back of her hand, it is as cold as ice. I look at her face and am taken aback! Her eyes are open! Her lips are bent in a beautiful smile! She still looks stunning.
Without warning, the machine behind me suddenly emits a continuous sound. Alarmed, I shoot it a look and teary-eyed, I look at her again. Her pretty little eyes are still looking at me, lovingly and the mist in the oxygen mask clears out completely to reveal her smile.
Looking at her now, I decide: Of course! Her memories are enough to keep me going. She is not here with me, but her love is.
I bend forward, kiss her palm and tuck it safely inside the blanket, as tears stream down my cheeks.
I get up slowly, take my stick and walk out towards my children, who wait anxiously to abide by my wish to have a last few minutes alone with my wife!
Ironically, they turn out to be her last minutes too!!
