The Final Journey

for friday fictioneers 100-word challenge 23 January 2015

Photo Credit: Georgia Koch

Once she was a young, beautiful, and hard-working woman. Now in her late seventies, Ahnah felt worn out like her dead husband’s abandoned boat.

Unable to do household chores anymore, she earned her keep by using her teeth to soften dried animal skins used for making clothes and footwear. When she lost all her teeth, she decided it was time to take the final journey in the Alaska wilderness. She’d rather die than be a burden to anyone.

“You don’t have to go,” her sister-in-law said as Ahnah was leaving. At the same time, she knew she couldn’t stop her.

Note:This story was based on my conversation with a friend who spent time in Alaska. He said that Eskimo women are tough and proud women. When they get old and could no longer contribute to the family upkeep, they go to the Alaska wilderness where they succumb to the cold or die being mauled by a bear. This is especially true when times are hard and food scarce. Anyway, since we were having a drink at that time, I’m not sure whether he was serious or just pulling my leg,

Dear Emily

For Friday Fictioneers 100-Word Challenge 15 Aug 2014

Photo Credit: Jan Wayne Fields

 
Dear One:

It’s been ten years since you passed away, but the hurt remains. I miss you terribly!

For a time, I consoled myself traveling. But since I had this stroke, I’ve been confined to the guestroom downstairs. I couldn’t even go up to the family library on my own. As per doctor’s order, they say.

At this point in my life, I come to understand what getting old really means: seeing the world narrowing before my eyes and nothing to look forward to except death.

Consider this my last letter to you. I’d be seeing you soon.

Love,

John

 

 

In Memoriam

 
This month marks the fifth anniversary of my cousin’s death. She was the daughter of my father’s elder sister. On October 27, 2008, she succumbed to a virus infection that ravaged her body weakened by leukemia and chemotherapy.

On the night she passed away, friends and relatives came over to visit her at the hospital as usual. They said their good-bye for the night, hoping against hope they could see her again for another day. But as the last one said good-bye, she also said her good-bye to this world.

I Hear the Phone Rings

 
Walking around Bulgaria’s neighborhood, I saw flyers posted on the door of some houses. At first, I thought they were from candidates running for office. The flyers were actually obituaries of residents who had passed away. Sometimes, the sadness that you’d feel around these places could be overwhelming. that’s the theme that I want to convey in this poem.
 
i hear the phone rings
breaking like a thief
into this empty house
frozen in time by grief

a call from the past
begging to be heard
it doesn’t matter now
the intended is dead

the intruder gives up
bringing the silence back
to a place where love
stood once mighty proud

eva and 65 roses

originally posted apr 29, 2010, updated sep 9, 2012

65 red roses photo

we blog therefore we are. a blog is the modern version of emily dickinson’s letter to the world. to some of us, it has become a medium for expressing the other part of us. it’s the private one that we keep away from family and friends for fear of being misunderstood. through our blog, we write our thoughts like a prisoner tapping the wall hoping that there’s someone else on the other side. oftentimes, our words are met with silence. but sometimes, we find a connection. somebody reads our post, then another, and another, until the chain grows and achieves a life of its own.

eva dien brine marvoort (1984-2010) was in the advance stage of cystic fibrosis when she started her blog in 2006. she named it 65 red roses after ’65 roses’ which is how children who have the disease are taught to say it because the words are much easier for them to pronounce.