I made my decision—I would go outdoors one last time.

“Mom, are you sure?” Aspen asked, worry creasing her brow.

I nodded.

She helped me form my bed, which I had been living in for months.

The revelation the doctors told me last night still pierced my heart with pain…my death was soon and inevitable.

Aspen rolled me in my wheelchair, parading me through the home I used to jump and sing in when I was well.

I pass pictures and paintings, constantly reminded of all the people I’d have to leave behind.

Soon my fingerprints would fade from the walls, kitchen, bedroom, and every corner of this house.

“Mom, why are you crying?” Aspen asked, her worrying increasing.

“My darling, I do not want to leave,” I said with a shaky voice.

Tears welled in Aspen’s eyes, breaking my frail heart.

She pushed me to the deck, where the sun was flowing its golden rays of warmth.

Aspen knew me, putting me right into the sun’s rays.

The warm light thawed my cold bones, adding warmth to my skin. I could bathe in the sun’s light; get drunk on the pure sunshine.

I smiled, happiness flowing like the sun’s light.

Soon, my heart began to slow and my breathing decreasing.

I saw Death’s shadow contrasting with the warm light, waiting for me.

“Aspen, my sunshine, make sure my light shines like the sun’s rays.”

Then I felt the coldness of Death take me away.