Chaplain’s Lament

The room was gloomy. Plastic shades were completely unrolled to keep the light from the sun as much at bay as it could be held. A breakfast of pancakes and eggs, a choice between milk and orange juice, and two sausage links lay untouched on a standing meal tray just to the left of the bed. The room's sole occupant had been crying since sunrise and hadn't bothered to wipe her eyes which were soaked by now, and a shade darker than usual.

Catherine Romana, also known as Cath, lay in sadness and a hospital gown. It was the morning after her boyfriend of only two years confessed that her battle with cancer was becoming too much for him to handle. Yesterday. The day the doctors had told her how long she had to live. Told her how the next place for the aggressive melanoma to spread, after living rent-free in her right lung for the past six months, was to her heart, and was suddenly an unstoppable force.

Nurses checked on her hourly. Waiting for the crash in vitals that told them all was hoplessly lost. Cath waited just the same. Yet she was there, moment by moment, wondering if Death would claim his Maiden sooner rather than later. Praying the moment wasn't too far away.

It was soon hard to breathe. Steadily more difficult. With the passing minutes, she washed terrible things on terrible people, prayed, recited Christian scripture, finally she called for the chaplain.

As they spoke, she whispered to avoid the pain in her chest, saying:

"I refuse to forgive anyone! If the Lord will take me, he can have me as I am. It's too late to change on the wings of faith alone!"

The chaplain prayed aloud. A blessing over her passing from one life into the next. He had not finished when the machines rang out, signalling Cath had lost her strength.

But the chaplain finished his prayer, and stayed until he saw the soul leave Catherine's face. He returned to the Chapel, where he prayed for the soul to find it's way into the beyond. To wherever God would place it.

The End