Thirty Six, Tomorrow

Tomorrow which its sorrow
Deludes the wisdom in marrow.
Yet its phantom leaves the last.
Tomorrow revivifies in that vast
Of all those misleading seeds;
Though it does not renew the seldom deeds.
The first cry of that sorrow
Rives the heart when it comes tomorrow.
*
In the first three years of that heavenly marriage, Anna felt something that words could not describe it. Everything that she had ever dreamed about, she had in those three years. Joseph could not be any more perfect for her or eccentric her as people called her. But now after the two excruciating years, she felt more and more about the unjustness of God, if he ever existed. "Why me?"
For some time, that vast darkness of past was not her enemy anymore; but it was her comfort. Now she was drawing back to her old habit; now everything was becoming obscure again. She remembered Joseph had told her once, at the beginning of his sickness, that death was not a one time event. She had not understood it then; but she knew now what he meant since death was permanent; and permanent meant continuous, forever. Therefore, death was not a one time event. Then another time he had told her that you are as the challenges you face. This one she understood, for it indicated how strong she had been and was, for the challenges she had faced were not only so many but arduous ones, too. She did not belong to the majority of people who did not defy any dares; and if they did, their confrontations were nothing compare to hers.
If only she could not tremble looking at the map of Iran, or the pictures of her family, including Steve, since Joseph did not mind her to display his picture, but she did tremble any time she looked at those. How could she stop this train of vision, this monstrous thought of coming to the surface again and again? They all started afresh after the beginning of Joseph's sickness. And how could they not?
Now perhaps, in this last significant moment of her life, when she had to decide on an important issue, life or death issue, her action was ruled by explicit conscience of what to do or what was the absoluteness in that action. However it was mostly by this internal inclination which came from her inner soul.
Joseph had refused to take his morphine for the entire week. She knew why and he knew why. Anna had hidden them somewhere in the den, so he could not easily reach them at the night stand and use them all. She just did not want to face this woeful surprise. On the other hand, as much as she loved him, she was also angry at him for his request. " You're a nurse. You know what to do?" It seemed to her that now that he was in so much pain, he loved no one, not even her; nonetheless, she knew that was not true. Probably one of the reason that he had lasted two yeas, not six months, was his love for her and her strength for him.
The sight of him, being in so much in pain and wanting so much to die was devastating to Anna. Cancer had metastasized, and now was every where. What would happen to her if she helped him to die? The words, "death is not a one time event" kept echoing in her ears. Death, did it matter for a cancer ravaged Joseph? She would escape to another room when he was aware or awake, so as he would not ask that question with his eyes. Nevertheless, what was the sense of prolonging the pain, the misery? She brainstormed other options like taking him to the hospital, or asking his doctor to order to take him to the hospital; so she could lift this great burden off her shoulder; but she knew any of those options were like being untrue to what she had promised him at the beginning of his cancer when the doctor had said that he had only six months to live. Then he made her to promise him not hospital or nursing home. "I want to die at home." When she had given him that promise, she had never thought that one day he would beg her for other things.

To Be Continued