Yesterday was the anniversary of my maternal grandmother’s death, my fraternal grandmother’s death would follow a month and a half later.
Today my mother went to the hospital, a terrible allergic reaction to fingerprint dust (she was at a house that got broken into, no biggy). She was having trouble breathing and could hardly speak, low oxygen levels. Towards the end of the day she told me she had to spend the night at the hospital.
Then it hit me, the fear. Stupid really but I felt that she really could die too. And it made me cry, that and remembering.
I went to visit her, she could hardly speak but it calmed me as in comparison to the frail and unconscious women that left my life, she was doing quite well (she felt like shit though).
I cleaned my hands with the disinfectant that hung from her bed. I spoke to her for a while. I left her a stuffed toy she gave me to keep her company. I kissed her goodbye, on the cheek, because both last times I kissed one of my mothers on the forehead was the last time I saw them alive.
I left after a while, got home, and started dinner while my boyfriend put the motorbike in the garage.
My hands, they still smelled of that disinfectant. The same disinfectant I used for weeks when I visited my last grandmother at the hospital. It was a soothing smell then, full of hope, it is a scary smell now.
I washed my hands, I washed the smell off.