||SwaRon OS: Coldest Hug||

Letting her go was proving to be a mountain which was crushing me down under itself. Leaving the spot where she had existed a few hours before all flesh and bones, the spot where I had kissed her my final good bye, the spot where I had last seen her beautiful face was weighing me down like never before. It felt like I was cheating on her. Like I was breaking my vows but I broke my vows while she was alive and she didn't care, I assumed death was going to make little difference.

Walking back my mind was full of memories, memories which were moments till yesterday. Our love was rooted in the depths of trust. She could read my eyes and I could listen to her silence. During our wedding I had promised her to give a life full of happiness and smiles because that's what she expected me to give to her, that's what she deserved from life.

The next three years seemed like a dream- a dream that was more beautiful than the paintings of imagination-more pure than the whites of snow and more colorful than the colors of rainbow. Then one day Sharon told me she was pregnant and if perfection could see herself in a mirror I was sure she would have looked exactly like our daughter. I had never seen an angel but if angels looked anything like the way people described her, I knew our daughter was one.

But as they say every sun sets and so did mine.My days of happiness got replaced by long unending nights with something as small as an ache. I couldn't have imagined that something so trivial would turn my world upside down until it really did. It was an ache that gripped Sharon so tightly that even I wasn't able to free her from it. After a point of time, it was the pain that flowed in her body better than blood.We considered doctors after doctors but nobody could even tell what was happening to her and my Sharon was breaking bit by bit. Every report that came claimed everything was normal with her but the pale thin body of my strong, beautiful Sharon proved it wrong.

When humans fail they turn to God to seek help and so I did too. Temples and Mosques, Churches and more- they all told thousand different things and I did ten folds of them but when Sharon screamed like an animal in pain all night, every second in our bed I knew God was blind and deaf. She would look at me pleading me to stop it but my arms weren't proving to be the safe heaven she used to claim they were. Nothing I did helped her. Everyday I would sit with her with our little two year old who hadn't been in her mother's arms since more than a year because Sharon couldn't move her muscles anymore. She couldn't sit up and she couldn't walk on her own. It felt like ages that I had heard her laugh, now she even smiled with great difficulty. Sometimes when her pain wasn't killing her I used to carry her in my arms and lie on the floor of the terrace gazing at the stars. She loved doing that. That was one thing that gave her peace. Once I played on our home video of the time when our daughter was born, I thought it would make her happy but instead she had cried and I realized it made her feel pathetic seeing herself doing everything her heart ached to do. So I stopped that. I talked to her about the weather, about her friends, about every little thing our daughter did, about us. . .I told her all was okay and not before long she would be completely alright. Tears would come out by the side of her eyes and she would smile trying to move her fingers to hold my hand or touch my face but the pain would shoot up and all the castles I made in front of her eyes would turn into ashes.

It happened about a week ago. Her pain had gone beyond her tolerance level. I knew if she could move any part of her body she would have thrown herself up to get rid of the torture. Leaving our daughter with the neighbours I had rushed her to the hospital to hear the same thing

"We don't know what's happening to her." No medicine seemed to work on her and her pain kept increasing. Her cries and shrill screams filled our home. So many nights I had to leave her alone to her agony because I couldn't bring myself to look at her, hear her cries, see her getting tormented by something that I couldn't see, couldn't stop, her eyes asking for helo when I had none. I stayed outside the door helpless, withered with my face covered in tears.

It was after five days that she had been quiet for over an hour. I wanted to see her but my heart thudded in my heart thinking of what I may see and when I opened my door my heart had stopped beating and I only know it because when she finally opened her hollow pale eyes, my heart picked up beat so fast that I thought I might die. My once strong, beautiful, jovial wife looked like a worn out flame, beaten like a thirsty traveller in desert and yet when she passed that faint difficult small ghost of smile, I melted like nipping ice.That day I promised myself that I would not let her suffer anymore.In that moment, I just wanted to take her in my arms and soothe her suffering but I was scared my touch would trigger her plight to start again. So, I just lied down beside her on the side entangling her small finger with mine like children simply watching each other. It had been my most beautiful morning in a long, long time. After what seemed like an eternity I carried her to the bathroom and bathed her and kissed her like I hadn't kissed her in long. It wad the longest I had seen her retain that small smile in many, many days. I tried to do her hairs and knew if she could she would have laughed loudly. I made our lil kiddo lie down sit up in our bed between us and made Sharon lie down. . .Sitting for more than fifteen minutes always started pangs of anguish within her. I put on the CD and we watched Sharon's favourite movie together and by the end I heard Sharon leave a long sigh as she closed her eyes.

I stared at her for a minute and went down to get her dinner without a word leaving her to her own relish.

That night I wanted to make her dinner. I wasn't a great cook but she always loved to eat anything that I made no matter how bad it tasted. That's how loving she was. But now she couldn't eat. She couldn't chew so all she lived on were liquids. I made her soup and as I stood in front of her she looked at me- i would never know what she saw, but I would never forget what I did. She knew it, she had known it since the morning, she had known it all along. Her eyes were not judging me, not loathing me, there was no sadness or fear in her eyes. . .it only had gratitude and love and I didn't know how to react. It was breaking me. It was breaking my resolve but I had to do it, not for anyone else but for Sharon. I couldn't help her to stay alive but I could help her die. . .

I sat beside ber, tears flowing down my eyes as I gently lifted her taking her body weight on myself and just heard her breathe, listening to her heartbeats trying to etch the rhythm in my deepest memory, her little movements, I was in the far off world with her until she called out my name slowly,

"Swayam"

And there was that faint small ghost of smile which came when she felt relieved or happy, the smile that had been my only source of sanity in these times. She flinched for a second, somewhere in her body the misery had triggered. She had fought this demon for so long and it was time she needed to be free of this torture.

I picked up the bowl of soup with my shivering hands and made her have the first sip.

The finality of the moment broke me down. Tears flowed freely as she drank every sip knowing what it was, what it was going to do to her. In between the sobs I talked to her about our first encounter, first fight, the misunderstandings, the love, the day we became us, the day we got married. I talked to her about everything that was past. Today nothing seemed trivial. No memory seemed ordinary. She sobbed and I weeped with her. . .the bowl was empty.

It was done. We watched each other. She smiled at me clutching closest finger with hers but the pain was too much for me. i enveloped her in my arms and kissed her head repeatedly and I could hear her sobs against my chest. The waters from her eyes leaving dabs on my shirt.

They say children are the messenger of God so when our daughter woke up from her sleep suddenly and crawled on her knees towards Sharon to kiss her head and wipe her tears withher small hands, I believed she was going to go to a better place. I slowly took Sharon's hand and she struggled with the anguish of pain but made it through to caress her little wonder's face and she smiled at her mother's touch making Sharon sob harder hiding in my shoulders.

"I will raise her a good person. But help me when I falter. You will, right?"

"Y-E-S!" She spoke slowly as I wiped her tears.

"I love you Sharon! I am sorry! I am sorry!" I cried in agony.

Her eyes filled up with love ans she tried to say something but before she could say it her wet eyes had stopped flickering and just like that. . .she was gone.

Dead.