The gift.

It had been simply a matter of time. Over the past few weeks she had become weaker and weaker by the day. Such a devoted couple, they’d become a single soul in two frail bodies. When his flame went out like a candle in a breeze, she was left in the darkness, alone, so alone.

It had been a silly argument some thirty years ago. A row over nothing, a boyfriend they’d thought unsuitable for their daughter. Boyfriend became husband, but they weren’t there to share their happy day. They heard about the birth of their granddaughter through a friend, but despite their daughter’s pleadings, they refused to see her. The longer it went on the more difficult it became for a reconciliation to take place.

So there she sat. The nurse swept came in to get her ready for the day, but when he dragged back the curtains with a cheery good morning, he found her sitting in her chair, on her lap a partly unwrapped package. He recognised it as the gift that had been left at the reception the previous afternoon by a little girl and her mother. They hadn’t asked to deliver it personally. Her eyes were closed, and there was hint of a smile on her face, a face that seemed younger than it had yesterday. It was moment or two before he realised she had gone. Gone to be with her beloved husband.

He stood there looking at her for several minutes, then suddenly the package fell to the floor with a clatter. He picked it up, removed the pink sparkly paper and held in his hand a silver frame. And in the frame he saw a  photograph of a little girl and her mother.

Sitting there in her chair she looked so peaceful, so content.

Written for Writers Island