Dad did most of the talking while Meredith lay there like a quasi-animated corpse attempting weak smiles, as my brother and I lingered at the end of the bed staring uneasily at our shoes. Upon leaving, my brother and I were corralled to her bedside and instructed to, “say goodbye to Meredith.”
As we all turned to leave, Meredith stirred. In considerable pain, clinging to the side rails of the bed, her knuckles turning white beneath the strain of holding up half her body weight and with arms shaking, she set her jaw. My dad leaned down to receive her message. With eyes that seemed to silmultaneously twinkle and flash with fire, interrupted by ghastly breaths and moans of pain, she declared, “I have such a glorious future!”
I don’t know what Aunt Meredith’s last words were — but those were the last I ever heard her speak. Those words have been rin ...