The Sound of Darkness

It was like any other afternoon. Outside was the glaringly bright sunlight against a backdrop of cerulean blue. Almost no clouds were in sight, except for wisps of cottony white that languidly floated along as though carried by river water that stumbled on huge rocks while flowing so lazily towards the open sea. It was as if the heat of the sun had melted all the clouds, leaving only a sky that was so blindingly blue that looking at it made my eyes water.

Staring at the world from the fourth floor window made everything seem significant yet insignificant. People below scurried and hustled like busy ants during summer time. I saw some in uniform running towards the building, probably trying to beat the clock as it was almost four o’clock in the afternoon, which meant a shift change. Others walked hurriedly towards their vehicles or to the nearby bus stop as if they couldn’t wait to put some distance between them and this apathetic structure where people's feelings were trapped and hung like smelly, unwashed curtains that even the strongest antiseptic could not get rid of. It was as if Time was at their heels telling them to go and get away from a place that, in just a span of a few weeks, has become hell on earth for me. 

The rush and bustle of the outdoors were muted as I was enclosed in this room. It was like watching a silent movie where the only sounds I could hear were the quiet purring of the air conditioner and the haggard breathing of my mother, who lay on pristine white sheets that only made her skin look even more ashen and jaundiced.

I woke up today listening to the change in her breathing. It was a rattling sound, like the sound of a baby's rattle that was being shaken listlessly. Just by the sound of it, I knew that it took her double or even triple the effort just to take one small breath that didn’t even go in and out smoothly. Her breaths snagged here and there as though there were barriers all over her throat that blocked the air from being inhaled and exhaled. I’ve heard them call this the “death rattle,” which was an ominous sound; a presentiment of what was to come. 

Death was not easy to accept. However, when there was nothing else that could be done, when the road we were on would not let us turn back or to our sides - then all that we could do was to take a step forward even though we had no desire to see what was further down the road. That’s life, I guess. We believe that we have the ability to make choices. But then, circumstances would entrap us; and we would then be left with no other choice but to accept what Fate has destined for us.

The thought suffocated me. No matter how bright it was all around me, this thick cloud of darkness just closed in and engulfed me mercilessly. It settled on my shoulders like an over-sized winter jacket that I could not take off no matter how hard I tried and no matter how hot it had become.

Darkness was playing me, and I, powerless, became its puppet. It was an accordion player and I was the accordion. It pulled on my insides until I was stretched to the limit; and then, just before I'd break, it would then push everything in so that I would choke on all my feelings.

My mother’s rattled breathing grew louder and more far apart. I approached her bed slowly, my feet heavy as though I was wearing shoes made of cement. I did not like seeing her like this, a piteous shadow of her once bubbly self. Her eyes had sunk into their sockets. Her cold skin was like old parchment that looked like it would crumble at the slightest of touch. But still, I touched her. I held her hand. I let her know that I was there.

Her breathing gained resonance, like a runner who gets that final spurt of energy during the last few feet of a race. To her, it was her final fight. However futile it was, she did not give in so easily to this silent but menacing disease. Still, the cancer had already won. We were only waiting for it to claim the prize, and I already knew that I alone would wallow in the spoils.

Her breathing grew quicker but more shallow as though she was panting and trying to get more air but couldn’t. Then, she held one long breath that she exhaled in a slow, desperate whisper. Just like that, all the suffering and pain of the past year were done with a final exhausted sigh.

Slivers of afternoon sun danced gracefully on her skin impervious to the darkness that had already claimed her. Her hand was still in mine. It had some warmth left as I held it to my now soaked cheeks. As death took her, darkness also began to consume my heart and mind. I allowed it to spread inside me because I knew that it was a darkness that even the strongest light could not easily chase away. 

Death has come and has brought darkness with it. For a while, I knew that I would sink myself into this darkness. I had to feel it - all of it - in order to accept it. Before I would be able to move on from the pain, I needed to grasp it with both hands and cling to it. Because without this darkness, I would not be able to move on. Without acceptance, I would remain stagnant. Without understanding this darkness, I would not be able to move towards the light and live again. 

💮 Hello. I am new here on Read.Cash. I hope I did well. I wrote this with the prompt "Darkness" that was provided by @JonicaBradley which reminded me of the time when I had to let go of my mother who succumbed to cancer in 2004. I miss her still.