The story of Sarah continues. Jack and Sarah now have four children, the eldest being five years of age. The year is 1963, before mobile phones, uba and emails. Along with many women back then, Sarah did not have a car license, so she relied on taxis and public transport to get around. Once Jack arrived home from work in the afternoon, Sarah took their toddler to the city hospital, as he had been suffering from a high fever. During the evening, Sarah hesitantly took the advice of the nursing staff to get a taxi home and get some sleep while their son Daniel was sleeping and his condition was stable. Their three children were sound asleep and Jack was dozing off while he waited for Sarah to arrive home when the phone rang, piercing the silence of the house.
Book Excerpt – The Wilted Rose Part 2 – The Rose Blossom
Finally, Jack and Sarah were on their way. The headlights lit the dirt road a short distance ahead through the darkness. They arrived in the city, and Jack had barely pulled up at the main entrance to the hospital when Sarah pushed open the door and ran inside to the reception. Jack parked the utility and ran back to Sarah. Pushing through the double doors, he spotted Sarah at the desk. He hurried to her side, catching his breath as he looked from Sarah to the nurse.
‘You said he was okay!’ Sarah yelled. ‘You people said he was okay! That’s why I went home! You told me to go home!’
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Brooker. He was fine when you left; he turned very suddenly.’
Sarah’s legs buckled underneath her, and Jack lurched forward to catch her, and nurses hurried to help them as he guided Sarah to sit on a chair. Containing her explosive grief in his embrace, Jack broke down as he tried to comfort her.
‘Daniel!’ Sarah wailed. ‘Daniel!’
To be continued…
Kate Kelsen Author © All Rights Reserved
The crumbling rose in Sarah’s hand symbolises her life starting to crumble to pieces. She sits alone in her sorrow amidst the petals of her broken heart. Beverley Joy
Poem – Goodbye My Baby Brother
Hello, my precious baby brother, I’m so angry, so upset
I woke up too late, I missed the chance to say goodbye that morning.
Dad and your two brothers stood on the back veranda
Looking up into the sky squinting in the morning sun.
I asked them curiously ‘What are you all doing?’
As I found a space on the staircase to look up at the empty sky
‘Watching Daniel go to heaven’ is what my father said.
‘Why didn’t you wake me up in time so I could say goodbye?’
God wanted you to live with him, he stole you from my family
Not even considering how hurt that would make us feel.
Our grandfather ruled ‘No children at the funeral’
I once more was denied the chance to say goodbye.
Mummy was crying in her bed bleeding from her broken heart
Confused and upset, it was tragic, daddy broke down and cried.
Grandad told Daddy ‘Stop crying Son, wipe your tears, be a man
You have responsibilities, trust in God to meet your needs.
Sorrow filled the walls of our young family home
Desperate prayers floated up to the selfish God who stole you from us.
Day followed night and life barged on with no regard for the pain it did impart
Daddy swallowed his tears and went back to work, mummy was left at home with three kids in tow.
The seasons came and went; the sun burnt us with pain
The full moon left us cold, and the rain, drenched our souls.
Mummy’s pain did not heal her tears drenched her bed
Doctors came, she took some pills, she couldn’t mother her three kids.
So, she returned to hospital where they tried to ‘make’ her well
A pill will solve her problem, but who will care for the children?
Grandad forced Daddy to put us in an orphanage
‘Family and friends won’t help you, son her illness is too embarrassing.’
Orphaned by our mother, orphaned by our father
Orphaned by the selfish God who stole away my brother
‘You can visit on Saturday’ is what the matron told my dad
My brothers cried and begs him to take us away from there.
Mummy came home sedated, now she cries and sleeps a lot
Goes through the motions of daily living of cooking, cleaning, and weekly shopping.
I tugged on her dress to get her attention ‘I missed you mummy; I miss Daniel still’
She sighed deeply and touched my face with tears welling up in her eyes
Her sorrow, too deep for mere words, her eyes and posture said it all
Life would never be the same, and mummy would never be happy again.
Where did my mum go when my brother died?
They took her away, and then sent her home
But they kept her smile, her heart, her soul
They killed her desire to love us all.
Is God sitting up in his peaceful ‘heaven’
Delighting in the company of my brother
While down here we continue to suffer
While Daddy prays to that same God each day.
I was only three, my brothers four and five
Too young to understand and no one thought to explain
Now an adult, I know the truth that God did not selfishly steal you
That you died suddenly in 1963 from a serious illness no one could fix.
Beverley Joy of Simply Story Poetry © All rights Reserved