Patient in Hospital Bed

You the day of her ing vividly. The hospital room was stark and sterile; the fading beeps of the machines were more haunting than the silence that eventually followed. You stood at the door, wrestling with the shadows of your defiance against the woman who had given you life. Her skin, once radiant, was now pallid, almost translucent beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. You wanted to run to her, to beg for forgiveness for your choices, to show her that being different didn’t mean being less worthy of love. Days ed, leading you to the funeral, an abyss of faces obscured by grief—mourners disguised as shadows. Their condolences a mix of hollow words and empty hugs, they didn’t understand how to articulate sorrow, just as you hadn’t known how to respond to her final request. You drifted through the crowd, a ghost of yourself, feeling the weight of their expected grief crashing upon you, while your essence remained isolated in the echoes of your mother’s voice.