Setting Descriptions-A Picture of Death
It is almost bed time and I peered in Mama's room through a crack in the door. I could see the breakfast tray next to her. Her orange juice not drank and her strawberry Jell-O melting as if it were the witch from the Wizard of Oz that had just been splashed with a bucket of water. I could hear the creaking sound of the breathing machine. The machine droned out the sound of her gasping and wheezing for air.
As I opened the door, it let our a large groan. My mother twitched her head and choked out, "Who's there?" I came in to the dim room, that had long ago lost its vibrant color. The room no longer smelt of Mama's sweet perfume and flowers. Now it smelt more like a hospital or doctor's office. I hated to see Mama like this; next to her a book with the cover torn off lay at her side. It said On Death and Dying on the binding. My feet felt numb against the cold wood floor. My heart was pounding as I made my way toward her. A bead of sweat dripped from my forehead and my heart beat began to race. I sat on the stiff cardboard bed near her, but not too close. As I surveyed the room I could see the blotches of pinks, yellows, blues and greens. The room was full of get well soon cards and flowers. Somehow, the flowers made me sick-the way they reinforced the fact that Mama was sick.
I tried to start many conversations with Mama, but somehow she'd trail off or fall asleep. It was better that way, for her to get rest. Her skin was no longer pink and glowing. Instead it clung to her cheek bones. Her eyes were dark and sullen in her eye sockets. It scared me to see her this way. Her frail lips, no longer rosy, were surrounded by a mask that was helping her breath. Her body was made of just skin and bones, she seemed almost lifeless. Even her voice had changed. It was weak and soft, instead of sweet and powerful. Her long beautiful brown hair gone, with the cancer. Instead a bandanna was placed upon her head. It was only partially covering her head, where I could see a part of her pail scalp revealed. I somehow did not believe this was my mother. It did not look like her. It could not be her. I just could not comprehend how cancer could change someone’s appearance so much. And now Mama was in a coma.
I stood in the middle of her room looking at her frail body. I gazed at her chest move up then down. The room felt empty, I felt alone, scared and frightened like a lost child. The white sheets covering Mama's body seemed to be the only light in the room. The orange juice just sat there next to her bed and the Jell-O was now a puddle on the plate. For a moment it was as if time stood still. Mama was now cold and not breathing. Mama was now dead.