Ginger sits on the love seat, surrounded by friends. “Momma is sure he’ll get better,” she says of her brother Fred, “but the treatments are probably just buying a little time.”
She talks about how hard it is to see her brother so sick, so weak. Her eyes brim with tears, but she doesn’t cry. Not yet. Later. When she’s alone again. Then tears will flow freely.
“Fred has no appetite,” she goes on. “I try to make sure he eats regularly, but then he gets sick and brings it all back up. Then I feel guilty for making him eat in the first place. But I can’t just let him starve either….”
The words trail off and seem to land gently on the parlor floor. “Another mess to clean up,” she thinks.
“Remember when you set the dog house on fire?” Everyone laughs a little. They smile weak smiles.
“Yeah,” Ginger recalls. “I was carrying water out there in Dixie cups. Fred dragged the garden hose over and put it out.” Another weak smile. “Daddy was really mad about that.” Then they all remembered, her Dad’s gone five years now. Same disease.
Shared sorrow though is easier to bear.
[Note: Learn more about Fred and Ginger here. ~Tim 6 Dec 2009]
3 Responses to “Vignette: The Big C”
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Let's do Something Cheap and Superficial 
Not that you need it, since this is just fiction–right?–but ::hug::.
Yup. All fiction. And all metaphor. Or something similar. But thanks. ~Tim
Yeah. But thanks for stopping by and sharing. ~Tim
Shared sorrow is easier to bear. Two people (or more) can carry a (metaphoric) cross better than one. Except it still has to be carried. . .
Or dropped. Just saying. ~Tim