A Plate of Fresh Cookies
"Hey sweetie! How are you feeling?"
“Same as when you asked me an hour ago mom, not good.”
“Well, I have something here that might cheer you up a bit.” She pulled a small plate of fresh cookies from behind her back. The chocolate chips were still glossy; they were still warm.
“Go ahead. Have one or two.” He reached for the plate and split one of the cookies into four pieces. He began chewing on one piece, the chocolate melting even more in his mouth. He swallowed after a few chews. The warm cookie greeted his famished stomach. With it came a rush of memories, all the times his mother had made him cookies when he was sick over the years and most recently, a few weeks ago for his birthday. She’d delivered a fresh plate of extra large, triple chocolate cookies as his birthday dessert. They were so good.
He began to tear up at the thought, her making him fresh cookies one last time.
“Oh no, what’s the matter?” Tears streamed down his face like a meteor shower.
“I won’t… I won’t… I can’t ever have cookies again!” His crying grew to full body sobs. He lurched forward, only in time for his mother to catch him.
“No, no. Listen. When you’re up in heaven, you can have cookies way more often than you do now. Ok?” Tears still streaming down his face, he attempted to answer, but his cries drowned out any sound.
As his body moved, his hospital bed shook slightly and his IV tubes bounced about. His heart monitor began to slow and set a steady background beat. His stuffed animals sat in visitor’s chairs, watching his agony like it was a play. His father watched from the doorway with heavy breath. His eyes began to water. He moved to his child, giving him the last and best hug of his life. His heart rated continued to slow, now adjoining his labored breathing.
“I love you…”
“I love you too mom.”
“I love you…”
“I love you too dad.” He laid back in his bed. A nurse poked her head into the room.
“I by no means am rushing you. Are you all ready?” She received a round of collective nods and approached the bedside. She searched through the tangle mess of tubes, searching for just the right one.
“Alright, this is gonna feel just like going to sleep ok? All you’re going to do is close your eyes when you feel like it. Okay?”
“Alright. Here we go.” She inserted a needle into one end of a tube and slowly pushed its contents in. His heart rate monitor slowed to a crawl and after a few moments, stopped. His parents embraced each other. Both parents' eyes began to water. After a few solemn moments, the nurse turned to his parents.
“I’m sorry for your loss, how old was he?”
“He just turned 13 three weeks ago.”
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