Then came fluid around her lungs.
Hospital.
Home.
Hospital again.
Eventually she said she was done.
“I want my room.”
The doctor explained comfort care.
Ethan cried in the parking lot.
Margaret did not.
She simply wanted her own bed.
Her own blanket.
Her own window overlooking the two maple trees Owen had planted as a child.
The other siblings were notified.
Daniel said he would come Friday.
Marcus planned Saturday.
Leah said she needed to rearrange appointments.
Margaret did not complain.
That hurt me more than if she had.
For four days, I barely left her room.
She stopped eating.
Then drinking.
Her speech became thin.
One afternoon, she pointed at the old blue pillow behind her back.
I adjusted it.
She shook her head.
“What?”
She touched the torn seam.
“Not yet.”
I thought she was confused.
That night, wind rattled the windows.
Ethan had finally made it home from Bellhaven.
