The paper cranes are folded from receipts for doctors, buses and climate magazines, from my five year old’s drawings of our family, prescriptions for her meds, sweet wrappers and cigarette packets, and hang now to be counted, over her hospital bed, one more for every day since she didn’t die.
Rosaleen Lynch, an Irish community worker and writer in the East End of London, pursues stories whether conversational, literary or performed and believes in the power of words to make the world a better place.
The last four words clinch this into place.
Thanks Shoshauna 🙏
Beautiful piece.
Thank you Sue 😊
Yes, Each day to be celebrated. When my adult son was terminally ill, we gathered all our extended family to get one last photo to include him one final time. That weekend he took a turn for the worse and was in hospital instead of in front of the camera. We took a photo without him, really not expecting him to make it until Monday. But he did. One of my favourite family photos, “The day my son didn’t die”.
How lovely…what a beautiful story, thank you for reading and sharing. So glad you were reminded of your ‘happy ending’!