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The Death of Maggie McKinnley

I gazed at my family through elderly eyes while Father Jacob preformed my last sacrament.  Jack, my husband of 50 years, held my hand and tried to blink his tears away as the Father finished his prayer on a solemn 'Amen'. I squeezed Jack's hand and gazed at the others that were gathered around my hospice bed.  They spoke in hushed tones and their faces were stained with sorrow but they’d never looked more beautiful to me.  Three generations of my family, gathered around me, at the end. My doctor had been slowly increasing the amount of morphine flowing through my IV drip all day. I felt better than I had in a long time - since before Cancer swapped my life for pain. My eyelids were so heavy. I closed them - for a moment. I realized I was dying but I wasn't afraid. It was so deeply comforting to be surrounded by people who loved me. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I tried to tell my family "I love you" with my last breath and then everything went black...
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Looped

It was a dream made from a memory. Maria and Nina just finished lunch on the second story balcony of the charming seaside restaurant they'd stumbled upon during their 'Day of Adventures'. It was a crisp, early Indian Summer afternoon, too cold for swimming, but too warm for a jacket. It felt as if the warm, golden sun and crisp North wind were flirting with each other against a backdrop of brilliant, blue sky. This was the last Sunday they’d spend at the beach this year. Next week they'd drive North into the country, for pumpkin picking and fresh apple cider donuts. Nina was gazing at the distant ocean while chattering excitedly about everything they would do once they got to the Boardwalk. Maria couldn't have been more pleased to see Nina acting - almost - like her old self again. "We'll have cotton candy and go on rides. Will you go on the Tilt-A-Whirl with me, Tia?" "As long as you promise not to vomit on me again, baby." ...
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