I was the oldest of seven little boys and girls, who couldn’t understand what was going on. We were sitting in the hospital waiting room, some of us screaming and playing, others just silently crying and me, I was sitting next to my father, taking his hand into mine.
The minutes seamed like hours, everything was so slow. Time passed and my brothers and sisters began to fall asleep all over the room, but my dad didn’t care, he just stood in the chair, with his hands covering his eyes. He wouldn’t show us he was crying, worried, he had always showed his strength and he wouldn’t show the contrary, not even in these moments of extreme pain.
We were all waiting, waiting for good news, after one year and a half of bad news all we were waiting for was one good news that could change our lives. But unfortunately this good news would never come.
Sitting in this blue chair with my dad, all good memories came to my head, all my regrets, what I could have done but I didn’t because I didn’t know to appreciate what I had. My mother’s light of life was slowly vanishing, and I couldn’t do a thing about it, not even pray, nothing would work. I guess we all knew there was no hope left, but we all were children, we were naïve and innocent, always waiting for a miracle.
Finally the doctor came out, after ours and hours of waiting all he had to say was: I’m sorry. My dad stood up and ran to my mother’s room, and as for me, I stayed there in my chair, no tears came out from my eyes, and no screams came out from my mouth. This revelation had shocked me as nothing had ever before. I just stood there without moving, not even blinking. My entire world had come down into ashes, and I didn’t know what to do about it.
Few minutes later I stood up and went with my father. I stayed on the door of the room, seeing how my father took my mother’s hand and, for the first time, cried with no shame.
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