I cursed the sterile white room where Ann died

As I stood by Ann’s bedside in the hospital, watching her slip away, I couldn’t help but feel anger towards the sterile white room that had become her final resting place. The beeping of machines and the antiseptic smell of the room only served to amplify my sense of helplessness and despair.

Ann had fought bravely against her illness, but in the end, it was too much for her fragile body to bear. I cursed the cold, impersonal walls that had witnessed her suffering and ultimately her passing.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that if only the room had been warmer, more inviting, perhaps Ann’s final moments would have been more peaceful. The starkness of the surroundings only served to remind me of the harsh reality of mortality.

As I said my final goodbyes to Ann, tears streaming down my face, I made a silent vow to never again allow a loved one to die in such a sterile, unwelcoming environment. I vowed to create a space filled with love, warmth, and comfort for those facing the end of their lives.

Even now, as I look back on that fateful day, I can’t help but feel a pang of resentment towards the white room that stole Ann away from me. But I also feel a sense of determination to honor her memory by creating a better, more compassionate world for those in their final moments.

So, as I reflect on the room where Ann took her last breath, I choose to remember not the coldness of its walls, but the warmth of the love that filled it in her final moments.

May we all find peace and comfort in our final days, surrounded by those who love us, in a space that is anything but sterile and cold.