Photo copyright Dawn M. Miller
Anna pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed the tears dampening Maude’s face. Another light had just gone out in her world; the encroaching darkness threatened to consume her. What good were the golden years if everyone you’d intended to share them with had left you? She’d outlived her husband, their only child, all five of her siblings, and now one more dear friend. Folding the op/ed page back over Maude’s obituary, Anna rose stiffly from her rocker, shuffled to the phone, and dialed a number by heart. “It’s Anna Hendricks. The usual spray of white stargazer lilies, please.”
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Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come. ~Rabindranath Tagore
Maybe it was just my mood in the moment, but this week’s photo prompt for the Friday Fictioneers struck me as very sad. It brought to mind one of my grandmother’s frequent complaints in her final years…that she had outlived most of the people she loved. So these 100 words are in her memory, and in honor of all those she loved and lost. I like to think they are all together now, basking in each other’s light.
Clicking on the blue frog will take you to a whole collection of 100-word stories inspired by Dawn’s photo.
Things I See and Know 