"The purr of her cat was the last sound she heard as she surrendered . . . "
Below is an excerpt from my novel "Shoe Milagros." The main character in this section of the story is, Dorothy Hesse, a 77 year-old women who made her earthly fortune from the sale and manufacture of footwear. She leaves two children behind, Primitiva and Leo. Both of them are emotionally on a slippery slope. In a nut shell, you are walking into the end of Dorothy's life:
. . . She had suffered a massive stroke combined with a heart attack. Dorothy was unable to move from the neck down and felt a crushing weight in the center of her chest. She was not afraid of death, since she had felt it circling for some time now. She did however, feel vexed by a thimble full of soil that had entered her mouth, and was now forming little bubbles of mud and spit on her lips. When she tried to yell for help, Dorothy could only repeat one phrase over and over again: “Every day, every day” was all she could say, as if the link between her mind and lips had broken.
Dorothy prayed to the Blessed Mother to heal her or claim her soul. Pinky, her cat, kept her company during her last remaining minutes on earth, as did a lady bug that came to land on the petal nearest her nose. She had never noticed the tiny world that existed on the ground or the subterranean forces that made her garden so full of life.
Dorothy could see her well-manicured rose bushes a few feet away and begged for one more whiff of their delicate fragrance. She prized their scent above the expensive perfume bottles that lined her dressing table in an obscene show of wealth. As if to grant her last request, the wind came up and loosened several petals that landed so close to her nostrils she could easily smell their luxuriant fragrance. “Oh the glory of this earth that I must leave behind.” thought Dorothy. She looked up at the sun’s warm light through the trees and slowly closed her eyes. The purr of her cat was the last sound she heard as she surrendered . . .
Dorothy had read several books on near death experiences and walking toward the light, so she was not surprised to see a heavenly glow waiting for her at the end of a long tunnel. She glided along in the darkness, not really flying but feeling as weightless as the fragrant rose petals carried on the wind, unencumbered by her aging body that lay stiff and motionless in her garden. It was such a pity that her corpse would have to be buried in a box or burnt to ashes instead of becoming supper for a majestic mountain lion . . . but there was no time left to think since she was rapidly approaching the blinding brightness of what had to be the holy light of heaven. “God, please forgive me for my sins, but remember that you gave me my cravings as well as my virtues . . .” Dorothy mumbled, in a feeble last request for grace and redemption.
Just beyond the end of the tunnel, she could make out the dark silhouette of a large object. “It must be God’s golden throne or the pearly gates of heaven” she thought, with great joy and anticipation—but no preconceived notion of heaven could have prepared Dorothy for what she was about to see when her eyes became accustom to the light. Could it be? Was it Possible? Dorothy gasped with a mixture of fear and delight when she realized that she was rapidly approaching a giant high heeled shoe.
Thank you for reading my blog.