I stared intently at the pale form that seemed so foreign, yet that form was more familiar to me than my own in many ways. Her dark hair offset the alabaster white tones of her face as the sunlight played across her bedspread and over my own hands.
She spoke with a deep rasp that had never made its presence known in her before. Tubes protruded from various places and it pained me to just to lay eyes on her bent and broken body. Her breath was as piercing and cold as the December sunlight and her face as white as the snow blanketing the ground outside.
“Shh”, my voice smoothed over her, guiding her into her last peace. I ran my hands through her hair and I wondered how aware she was of her life leaving her moment by moment. It only took a fleeting second for her breath to cease, extinguishing like a wisp of a flame.
“Shh” I whispered and ran my fingers gently through the hair that once was as real as the tears cascading onto her silvery face.
Outside, in the courtyard she once had taken such pride in, a single red rose dared to reach up to the December sunlight. Just a single red rose braved the frigid air, retaining all its beauty. But the sweet rose crumpled under the snow, the white alabaster snow. Though even as it wilted and died, withering into nothing more than the shadow of a memory, it held within itself an awe-inspiring will and a sobering determination. At last it released but a single decimated bloom to announce its end with a solemn finality. It will forever be that all things will perish under the weight of December sunlight, taking with them that unbreakable beauty only the purest things may retain until their very end.