Bedside Vigil

Beep…beep…blip blip…beep…beep. The machine monitoring Sharon's vitals cuts through the heavy silence of the room. Louise sits by the side of her daughter, watching her chest struggle to rise and fall. She has been here before, sitting at the bedside of one she loves, waiting. First her father-in-law, then each of her parents took their turns moving into her home where she cared for them day and night until they passed. Then her husband, she laughs bitterly to herself at the memory of the damn pizza delivery he kept ordering every time she left his bedside. Perhaps at that point it was already too late for his fatty liver, but she still wonders if she would have had a few more weeks with her love without that damn pizza. It was excruciating watching him bloat uncomfortably and turn that sickly shade of gray, his mind slowly getting twisted around and confused as the toxins built up in his bloodstream. She never expected to live through that again but only a decade later, as her oldest son's liver succumbed to years of drug abuse, she sat lovingly at his bedside. She watched him bloat, turn gray, and lose his mind before finally passing away.

How unfair that she is here yet again. Sharon tried, too little, too late, to get control of her alcoholism. But it wasn't until she started to bloat and her skin became gray that Sharon realized what she had done to herself. She fought in the end, moving hundreds of miles from the supposed buddies who kept dragging her back to the bar. She admitted her problem, to Louise, to her husband, to her siblings, and most importantly, to her children. Sharon wanted to live. But she wanted it too late, too late to save her liver, too late to qualify for a transplant, and too soon to be leaving her family behind.

So Louise finds herself here yet again, watching her child fight for every breath, each more shallow than the last. This time she's not alone. Sharon's husband paces in and out of the room, coming back with the acrid smell of cigarettes hanging more heavily about him. Her daughter fusses about, wetting Sharon’s dry cracking lips and tongue, fluffing her pillow, straightening her covers, stroking her hand, all while trying to hide her tears. Sharon's sons sit close by, all fighting to keep their eyes open and fighting to keep their cheeks dry. Louise appreciates their presence, but as she sits at Sharon's side she does not feel their company. She is utterly alone with Sharon.

She alone carried Sharon in her womb. She alone rocked Sharon to sleep. She alone kissed Sharon's scrapes and bruises better. She alone taught Sharon to manage her monthly menstruation. She alone comforted Sharon through her first heartbreak. She alone went with Sharon to get her wedding dress. She alone helped Sharon care for her newborn after her C-section. She alone comforted Sharon through her divorce. She alone helped care for Sharon's children as she figured out how to put her life back together. She alone picked Sharon up from the bar night after night. She alone helped Sharon dig herself out of the debt she had drunk herself into. She alone had confronted Sharon with the hard truth. She alone now sat at Sharon's side, watching and waiting for her life to come full circle.

Louise sits in silence, watching her daughter. Despite the late hour, her soft blue eyes do not droop with fatigue. Despite the emotions hanging thick in the air, her eyes remain dry. Despite the others moving about, her eyes never move from their vigil over Sharon.

Sharon lays in the bed, floating somewhere between awake and asleep, betwixt life and death. From time to time, a small pitiful moan escapes her sticky parched lips. She senses the presence of her children and husband. How she would love to be able to tell them she loves them, that she’s sorry. How she wishes she could pull them close and comfort them. But she tries to open her eyes and her lids are too heavy, they only flicker lightly. She tries to speak, but only manages a barely audible moan. She tries to pull them close, but only manages to squeeze their hands softly. Her foggy mind tries to hold the fear at bay. In the height of her fear she becomes aware of another presence standing vigil at her bedside. Unwavering, unflinching, the person she’s always been able to count on is there at her side. Her mother’s quiet strength wraps around her like a familiar comforting blanket. Sharon slips more deeply into sleep, her nerves calmed at last.

Louise sees the tension release from Sharon’s forehead as her breathing eases. The occasional moans fade and Sharon finally looks peaceful. The long, endless night drags on. The others drift off as Louise sits her stoic vigil, unwavering. It will not be much longer, but could still be hours away. It does not matter. Louise was with her in the beginning and she will be with her in the end.

The sun rises into the sky and Sharon’s breathing has changed yet again. She pauses and gasps, clinging to the life she is too young to leave behind while simultaneously hovering at the edge of a waiting eternity. She feels her mother take her hand, the loving touch that has given her strength through every heartache, disappointment, failure, and fear. As she had a thousand times before, Louise squeezes Sharon’s hand gently in succession three times, two quick, one long. It was a simple gesture she had repeated over and over, every time her timid daughter turned her wide brown eyes up to Louise, pleading silently for the strength to face her fears. All the times monsters needed to be chased out from under the bed, all the times Sharon teetered to on the edge of the next phase of life, all the times she could not beat her demons, Louise had been there with that same reassuring squeeze. Louise's grip loosens after that last squeeze and Sharon lets out one final breath. She plunges over the edge of eternity, her chest falls still and the beep…beep…—-----.

Louise, having been here too many times, takes Sharon’s hand with both of hers, slumps forward, and finally sobs. Huge, frame shaking, silent sobs overwhelm the exhausted mother for five heart wrenching minutes. Then Louise raises her head, lets go of Sharon’s hand for the last time, and climbs slowly from the chair. She pats the shoulder of each grandchild as she passes them on her way out the door, unable to bear the thought of looking back at her sweet daughter’s lifeless body. Finally back home, exhausted, beaten, and overwhelmed, Louise falls into her own bed. Her last thought as she drifts off to sleep is gratitude for all the aches and pains reminding her that her time is nigh. The next deathbed vigil will finally be for Louise.