Resolution of a Good Life

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The girl in the photograph was smiling, one arm looped around her best friend’s shoulders and the other proudly carrying her degree.

I’ve come a long way, Adege thought. A long, good way.

She smiled – or at least, she thought she did. It was impossible to tell any more whether the commands her mind gave her body actually happened or not. Thirty-odd years with this damned disease, the last ten of it confined to a wheelchair, her body slowly paralyzing around her. The doctors had done what they could to slow the onset, and it had helped for many years. But at 92, Adege knew there was little else to be done for her.

She gazed longingly over the sheets of photographs before her, as the machine pumping her unfeeling lungs whirred away.

“Adege?”

She smiled – or tried to – again. With what little physical control she had left, she prompted the computer to type: YES, MICHAEL. I AM READY. IT HAS BEEN A GOOD LIFE, BUT I AM READY.

She could see, but not feel, the tears that dripped from his face to hers as he leaned down to kiss her.

As he slowly wheeled her back inside, to the bed where she would fall asleep eternally, Adege typed one last message: I LOVE YOU. GOODBYE.