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Fading 

March 15, 2017

Oh Lord… Kat, this takes me back to so many end of life pastoral care experiences… I “liked” it, but truthfully it tugs at my very soul…

like mercury colliding...


It was a fading memory. Strobing fluorescent lights, the rat-a-tat-tat of a sticking stretcher wheel, the hot sting of a needle piercing her skin, the cool rush of fluids pulsing through her veins, unfamiliar agitated voices and strange words; pleural cavity, intubate, pulse ox, edematous, code blue, call it.

“9:24 pm”, was the last thing she heard before a flash of light and a whoosh sent her drifting feather light above where her body lay. Through walls, upward, upward until she floated just above the clouds, dots of artificial light twinkling like stars from the sleepy city below.

She drifted there in the in-between for hours, maybe days, it’s hard to know. The inconsolable wails of loved ones breaking through the veil like whispers held her captive. She extended her hands toward them as if she could touch the sound waves, and so, touch them one last time.

But the…

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