What makes me different from them?
Perhaps it's their view of what life truly is or their goals in it. Maybe it's their ignorance about the real world or their lack of pain or suffering that I've endured. Maybe it's the beat of our hearts and their rhythms. Maybe it's the fact that they will die.
I promised I would bring her son to see her, and so I did. I watched her talk for hours and laugh with the boy who caused her to lose her next child, as if he were the most precious jewel of all. She looks at him, smiles, and gently touches his hair while he talks non-stop.
As an excuse, I said they needed to spend time mother and son without strangers around, but what I really need is to find a way for him to suffer as much as possible before he takes his last breath.
"Do you need anything, young man?" the kind nurse offers.
