You've never looked more beautiful

I am temporarily blinded by the dark when I open the door to her home. Stale smoke and sweat cuts through the stuffy nose I was fighting and I shut the door behind me. As my eyes adjust, I see her form, tiny under the covers.  Stepping silently into the room, I look around at her life. 

The bedspread that you were so proud of, full of cigarette burns and near misses.  The medicine coursing through your veins undoubtedly had an obvious effect.  Your humidifier is empty, belied only by the red light shining in the corner.  Remnants of the protein shakes lie half filled in cups scattered about your bedside table. A box full of medicine lies open next to you, saving grace that it is. 

You take a deep breath and I am drawn to your face- sunken, sallow, outlined by your skull.  Your hair has grown and after weeks of it being gone, I am still not used to seeing it on your head. Your collar bone, so prominent, reveals the depth of your illness, the cancer that ravages and depletes your strength.  As I come near you, you wake, black eyes unfocused as they stare at me. 

I help you sit up and we fall into pace with each other. 

You're sweaty, I can see it on your face and you feel gross, you've mentioned on more than one occasion.  I run your bath, taking care to move potential tripping hazards from your path.  I pour lavender Epsom salts and bubble bath into the steaming water in the hopes it will bring you peace. The bathroom has been transformed into a sanctuary.  Come find rest. 

The tea is done and we must have a cup before we do anything.  We talk over the rim of our glasses; heavy topics that neither of us have any answer for- Life and death, heaven and hell, pain and peace, being alone. My heart is flooded with love for her, despite my best defenses of protecting myself.  Healthy boundaries has been my mantra of late, and I'm finding it difficult to adhere. She's just so damn likeable, dammit. 

I finish my tea and try to coax her out of her bed- a task that is becoming harder and harder as the days pass.  Finally, with the promise of clean sheets she sighs and stumbles into the bathroom to pee.  Our conversation follows the normal pattern of asking personal questions about her toileting habits and her unabashed answers. I help her slip off her clothes and hold her lithe frame as she steps into the hot water.  Her body visually relaxes and the strain of her illness seems to melt from her face.  

She closes her eyes and sinks back to lay, covered by the water, in a place where she finds relief from her torments.  I watch her as the steam swirls around her.  Her tiny body sporting the remains of a figure ravaged by time. Bubbles stick to the skin from her arms and she sighs, content. Not one to miss a cigarette break she pulls one from the pack I laid out for her and I light it in silence. 

When I look back at Lloydene, I know this moment has already been branded in the depths of my heart - I want to remember this moment.  She pulls her knees to her chest and lays her head on them, long lit cigarette dangling from her thin fingers.  She is tired and worn but never more herself in all her insecurities, fears and hopes.  Her essence was pure- accepted and resigned.  How honored I was to be able to behold such a raw look at the soul of a person. 

She is ready to lay back down so she washes her face and I scrub her back.  She unsteadily rolls to her knees to try and stand to which I lift her wobbly frame from the tub.  I wrap her in her towel and put her in her new purple robe, coveted as one of the few gifts from her beloved sister. She rubs her hands down the robe, feeling like a little girl and royalty all in one. She takes a look in the mirror and sighs, shoulders dropping and I help her to her room. 

I change her sheets, painting a picture of how nice she will feel when she crawls back in. She sits on the chair in the corner, huddling into her robe sipping the vestiges of her tea while she talks to me. When I am finished, I pull the corner back invitingly with a knowing smile. I know what she wants.  She sits on the side of the bed and I help her into her shorts.  She sighs again this time as she stretches out into her nicely changed bedding.  I offer her a smoothie- the food of choice for the past six months, and she declines in favor of another cigarette chased with copious amounts of pain medicine.  

She sits and smokes while I finish putting the bathroom back together and refill her air humidifier. I make sure she has enough water until the next person comes to see her and when I return to her room I find her curled under her blankets with her eyes closing.  

Thank you she whispers, that's what I've been needing all along.  

I am honored that the gift I have bestowed upon her today is a feeling that comes from good places - places like chicken soup when you're sick or hot cocoa on a cold day. That feeling that everything will be okay despite itself. 

I kiss her cheek and feel the bones of her face under her softly washed skin - she has never been more beautiful to me.