The Saddest Shade of Farewell
written by: Kelly Malleck
I found it ironic that my Gram’s name was Blanch as I stared at her now in what were likely her last days on earth. She was flat and pale, just like her name, and the whitewashed walls of the hospital room seemed to swallow her up. Without looking closely, she might as well be transparent, as all the color from her face had completely drained. I stared at her intently – wishing, hoping, praying that she would rally so I could get her up and dressed and out of this sterile hell hole like I’d done the past few times.
It grieved me that my formerly boisterous and full-of-life grandmother was nearly invisible against the sterile white of the room—as if parting itself wore this color, sucking everything it touched into stillness.
My shoulder ached from leaning over her bedside to get a better grip on her small, soft hand. I knew she was exhausted from fighting this monster that seemed to devour her bit by bit every day. I sat upright and twisted side to side on the metal folding chair to relieve my spine. I put my lips on the back of her hand and kissed her. Her skin was translucent, and I could see her blue veins buried beneath the brown patches on the back of her hand.
The rhythmic beep-beep of machines was strangely reassuring because I knew that she was still alive but just barely holding on.
The steady beats allowed my mind to time-travel to a pleasant memory of Gram and me in her warm, plaid kitchen. I sat at her table, and she stood behind me, brushing my hair and interlacing it into Dutch braids. I sat eating the simple breakfast that she lovingly prepared for me before the sun came up. She knew I liked to sit quietly before heading out the door to work and never pressured me to talk. It felt so good to have that brush slide from the top of my head to my lower back as she smoothed and twisted my hair and secured it with red ribbons.
Today, her tiny, chalk-colored hands that used to be so capable of rolling dough, stirring cake batter, and braiding hair were like two dead codfish in my hands, so cold, limp, and white.
“Ah, Gram,” I whispered, releasing her fish hands and kissing her forehead. “I love you so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You loved and cared for me when I was unlovable, no questions asked, and I will love you forever.”
BEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPP! Screamed the white monitor in the corner. I witnessed a continuous flat line.
Gram’s head flopped to its side on the flat and faded pillow. Her eyelids opened halfway to reveal her milky-white eyes. I released a guttural scream that brought a team of nurses running.
“Ma’am, step out of the way!” a matronly nurse in cerulean scrubs barked at me. But I couldn’t move. I was frozen. She shoved me beyond the privacy curtain, and I landed on the black folding chair. The nurses became a machine, working in unison to save my little Gram’s life, to no avail.
I stayed in the room with my dead grandmother until she was wheeled away to the morgue. I couldn’t cry. I stared at the empty bed with sheets askew in disbelief that she was gone. A nice woman in crisp white slacks and a vermilion top came in with papers to sign so I could take Gram’s belongings with me when I left. Being her only living kin, I was the one to call the funeral home to ask them to take her for cremation.
I carried the small bundle of my Gram’s belongings and stepped out of the lobby into the blinding sunlight. It was midday, and the sun was hot. Traffic was zipping by the hospital. To me, it was all white noise. I felt weak when I climbed into my hot SUV and turned it on. The radio was blaring, and “Back to Black” by Amy Winehouse was playing. It startled me, but I was glad for the distraction. I turned it down and listened to Amy croon, “We only said goodbye with words…” My tears began to flow. I switched the radio off and wiped my eyes with a crumpled Starbucks napkin. This was not the vibe I needed right now.
I searched for my sunglasses. The world outside was too bright, too harsh for my fair eyes. I panicked, realizing that I couldn’t remember this day’s date. It was the last day I would ever hold my Gram’s hand. The last day I ever kissed her. It was an unbearable, colorless day, a perfect day to say farewell to the woman I loved the most. I sat in my silent vehicle with frigid air conditioning blowing on my face, wrapped in the imaginary blanket of white—the saddest shade of farewell.
NOTE:
Based on the Prompt – The Color of Goodbye
- The Saddest Shade of Farewell - June 3, 2025
- Spotlight On Writers – Kelly Malleck - January 25, 2025
- Ghosts of Halloween Past - October 21, 2024
