I cursed the sterile white room where Ann died

As I stood in that empty, lifeless room, the memories of Ann’s final moments flooded back to me. The beeping of machines, the smell of disinfectant, the indifferent faces of the nurses – it all felt like a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from.

I cursed the sterile white walls that had witnessed her suffering, the cold linoleum floor that had felt her last breath, the fluorescent lights that had exposed her frailty. I cursed them for being witnesses to her pain and for failing to provide her with any comfort in her final hours.

Ann had been my rock, my confidante, my best friend. Seeing her deteriorate in that clinical setting had been unbearable, and now, in the aftermath of her passing, all I could do was curse the very room that had become her prison.

But as I stood there, consumed by grief and anger, a sense of peace washed over me. I realized that Ann was no longer confined to that sterile white room – she was free from pain and suffering, free to soar beyond the confines of this world.

And so, I made peace with the room where Ann died. I let go of my curses and instead, I filled the space with memories of her laughter, her kindness, her love. I turned the sterile white room into a sanctuary, a place where her spirit could always reside, watching over me with a smile.

In the end, I found solace in knowing that Ann was at peace, and that her memory would always live on, even in the darkest corners of that sterile white room.