"I don't think he's breathing, hon."
I am so so sorry!
Oh god it feels so cold tonight, I thought as I tried to start the truck.
Hey, I changed my name to Gabby because I didn't like it in first person, and it was to weird to use my name. While I know what I felt as a child going through this I was more trying to get the reader to feel sorry for the girl. Pain in an eight year old (how old I was) is a hard emotion to write because it's so different than adult (I mean by the way we handle it.)
The little girl sat in the thread bare green chair. The blanket she had dragged from her bed pulled around her. “I’m cold and scared, Grandpa. Please wake up.” Gabby whispered. Her blue eyes staring at the man sprawled across the wooden floor. He hadn’t moved all morning, Gabby had sat in the chair waiting. She didn’t want Grandpa mad at her, but she couldn’t understand why he needed so much sleep today. Gabby had come to stay with Grandpa while momma had the baby. Momma warned Gabby to be a good girl for Grandpa and she had tried real hard to do that. “Grandpa, please wake up!” Gabby shouted. Tears rolling down her cheeks. Grandpa still didn’t move. Gabby remember what he had said last night. “Gabby girl, if you can’t wake me in the morning. I want you to go to down the Fletchers. “ He had kissed her forehead and tucked the blankets tight around her. Gabby stood up and walked over to the wooden bench that sat by the door. Jerking the snow boots over her small feet, she pulled on the old worn winter coat. Walking back to the living room door, she yelled, “Grandpa, I’m going down the Fletchers. I’m real scared and it’s cold but you told me so I’ll go.” The winter wind clawed at Gabby’s small eight year old body. She bent her head and started to the Fletchers. Gabby pounded hard on the door. Her bare fingers cold and red had stopped hurting along time ago. Finally, Mrs, Fletcher opened the door. “Heavens, Gabby what are you doing out in this weather. Where is your granddad?” Mrs. Fletcher pulled Gabby into the warm kitchen. “Earl, come in here.” “Gabby where is your granddad?” Mrs. Fletcher asked again. Gabby wanted to answer her, but the wind must have frozen the words in her mouth because she couldn’t make any sound. Mr. Fletcher had put on his coat and was lacing up his boots by the time Gabby’s words had thawed. “Grandpa is sleeping on the floor in the living room. I couldn’t wake him. He told me if I couldn’t I should come here.” Gabby turned to Mr. Fletcher. “Will you go and wake my grandpa? If he needs extra sleep ‘cause I’ve been bad, tell him I’ll be real good.” Mrs. Fletcher pulled Gabby close. “Honey, you are a real good girl. Your granddad loves you. Earl,” she looked up at her husband. “I’ll make sure,” is all Mr. Fletcher said before he left. Mrs. Fletcher wrapped Gabby in blankets and made her some hot cocoa.
Gabby sat in the church pew. It was the first time she had ever been in a church. She sat real still, afraid to move. Grandpa laid in a big fancy box. Gabby knew he was dead. Her momma told her she must have been real bad ‘cause she killed grandpa. Gabby felt the tears but she blinked real fast so they would leave her eyes. Daddy had told her that she couldn’t cry. People got up and walked out of the church but Gabby sat there. She could hear momma crying and they had taken grandpa away. A hand touched Gabby’s shoulder, “honey, what are you still doing here?” Gabby turned and saw it was Mrs. Fletcher. “I’m waiting for momma and daddy to come and get me. They told me to sit here and be good. I need to be real good ‘cause I don’t want them to die.” Mrs. Fletcher sat down beside the child. “Why Gabby, what do you mean?” “Momma told me it was ‘cause I was bad that grandpa died.” Gabby blinked real hard again to keep the tears inside. “I didn’t mean to be bad.” She whispered. “Oh, Gabby....” Mrs. Fletcher pulled the small child close to her. “I’ve never known a child as good as you. Your granddad loved you, he thought you were his angel.” Gabby hugged Mrs. Fletcher hoping she was right, that she was a good girl. Two months later, momma left leaving Gabby and her three sisters. Gabby sat on the couch listening to her daddy yell. “Gabby, I told you to be good, to help your momma. Now what are we gonna do?”
I think the dx would have been hard to cope with at any time, Kaasien.
I'm sorry for your loss, Faith, and I thank you for sharing your account.
Please accept my condolences for your loss.
My heart aches for Gabby.
(I'd like to slap her momma, too.)
In the last month of pregnancy, an outing to the planetarium is at best a bad idea.