“I don’t know what I did to deserve this as a gift,” she says in her seat beside the hospital bed. She presses his hand into hers, though the bony fingers remain limp in her grip. A life, faint and fading.
A life is ending.
She had never felt more scared than when she realized she was sitting in the room where her husband would die. She would have to say goodbye to him alone.
“On Christmas, of all days.”
Two floors above, another woman wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “A gift,” she whispers. “Such a beautiful gift. And on Christmas of all days.”
She had welcomed him into the world alone, never before feeling as relieved as she did when her son was born and she held him for the first time.
A life is beginning. A life, so fragile, so hopeful.
She cradles his head to her chest, lets tiny fingers grip her thumb. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this as a gift.”
Two floors below, a woman says goodbye to the love of her life with tears in her eyes. “A gift,” she whispers. “You were such a beautiful gift.”
* * *