Obscene

R E S T {PART I}

Hey,

The hard chapter.

Without further adieu, I present to you...

R E S T

O n y x D e L o u g h r e y

They transferred me back home to die. That's basically what it is. With a hospital bed and all, thick blankets to keep me warm, and a fucking oxygen tank. I'm in my bloody late 40's. There's no reason why I should be dying.

But, as expected for Thyroid cancer and King Parkinson, my time is almost up.

Now, everyone is in my damn house. Isn't it funny how they centered my hospital bed in the middle of the bloody living room? My death feels like a ritual, and everyone will surround me. All our children and their children will come piling up in this room and I can't even say 'leave me alone, I want to rest, because I'm bloody dying and they just want to say their good-byes.

I had a good run. 40 something years felt like forever. But, to be fair, it just wasn't enough.

I'm just exhausted. The pit of my stomach feels heavy. Very heavy, actually. Yet, it's funny because there's absolutely nothing in it. I think I can die in peace. I managed to dream about everyone's possible futures. My children and theirs. The dreams stopped after the grandchildren. It brings me peace when I know that they won't die of an illness. Instead, old age. Old age sounds nicer. Calmer. Meant to be.

This is what the stars wrote for me. And I fucking hate the stars for this. For me to be terminally ill in my late 40's makes my blood boil. I was beautiful. I had everything I ever wanted. My life was going great.

So why did the stars write my life this way? Even worse, why am I the last one to pass? All my siblings passed away at an early age. Was it a De Loughrey thing? Will my daughter and son even make it past 40? I've seen their futures. I've seen my death coming. I just didn't realize it was this soon.

My mother named us after stones. Onyx, Nephrite, Malachite, Opal, and Carnelian. Crystals. Rocks. Reasoning? To this day, I still don't know. Maybe because each stone cast beauty. Maybe that's why.

But here's the difference between me and a stone. We live on a large piece of stone, orbiting the Sun by the second. Unless we get hit by an asteroid, the Earth is going to be here for a long...long... long time. You treat the planet right, the planet lives on. You take care of the planet, the planet grows stronger.

So why is it that I'm the one dying? Was it because I was treated poorly? I don't recall ever being treated poorly other than being held captive and tortured. I was taken care of. So, why didn't I get stronger?

Why am I the one on this death bed? Why is my hair brittle? The color in my eyes faded, haven't they? Am I just a bag of bones? Soon to dust?

I can't dwell anymore. The stars wrote for me to die this way, and exactly around this time.

I wear my favorite blouse, a pair of joggings that don't fit me anymore, and my hair brushed and pushed behind my ears. These clothes are too baggy. I can't look down otherwise I'll exert all the energy I have left into crying.

I don't want to cry.

Not with the precious time I have left.

"Can I get you anything, Mum?" Mel interrupted. I turned my head to see her, with Oshun on her hip, and both of their curls tied up in a bun. I never knew how to take care of Mel's curls. I didn't have any myself. I hope she doesn't hate me for that.