Abandoning Abandonment

I had to write a fictional short story for my English class modeled after one of the short stories we read in class. I chose to model my story after "The Jilting of Granny Weatherall"...about an old lady lying on her death bead and all the senile strange things going through her head until she finally (maybe?) dies. My story is probably the dumbest thing in the entire world...and as EMO as it is...I kind of laugh when I read it. Have fun.

Abandoning Abandonment
(Modeled after the Jilting of Granny Weatherall)

She lies down on the bed staring at the empty pill bottle — the contents of which were now being released into her blood stream. She could not believe what she had just done. But then again, she could not believe what he had done to her, nor could she believe that it had happened so long ago, yet the depression of it all made her unwilling to live. Before she had chosen to end her life, she was already lifeless for quite some time. She tried to bounce back and recover from the sudden abandonment that came right after she had just given birth to their second child, but she simply could not.
Her entire life was a story of abandonment. Like a slow motion film stream, she sees her mother’s taillights leaving the driveway for the last time — leaving her to raise her two brothers and three sisters — and then she sees him. The first person she ever fully trusted again, and the last person she ever thought would jilt her like that. Things were starting to get fuzzy though. Maybe he wasn’t really gone. Maybe this is him walking into the room right now. Who could be disturbing her peace? She wanted to die in peace — no interruptions. Raising children as a child and then growing up to raise more children made her prone to constant interruptions. This was her time, finally, couldn’t everyone leave her in peace during her final moments?
“Oh my, God. Mom, what have you done? Oh my, God, Claire, call an ambulance! Mom! Mom! Can you hear me? What were you thinking? Oh my, God, how could you do this to us? We need you!”
“Now you tell me that you need me…couldn’t be bothered to say that as I went unnoticed all of these years washing your clothes, doing your dishes, curling your hair, making you dinner, helping you with homework, driving you to your 500 activities…now you will see what it is like to do those things for yourself.”
Violet didn’t say anything. Had she heard her? Was she really that out of it? Was her death really coming this quickly?
“Oh, Mom. You are moaning. I can’t understand you! Stay with me. I’ll stay here and hold your hand the whole time. You’re going to be ok.”
“You’re hands are cold, Violet, you got that bad circulation from your goddamn father. Or was it Lenny? Where is Lenny? If anyone is in here with me it should be Lenny or Claire, even Joad would be better than this, although Joad contracted the grippe a few days ago and hasn’t fully recovered right? Violet, if you insist on all of this fuss, at least get Claire or Lenny in here.”
Again Violet said nothing. But that was Violet for you. She was either as quiet as a mouse, or saying things that pierced your heart like a thorny branch. Were there show tunes playing downstairs? What was all that racket? Could they not see she was trying to die in peace!
“Claire, make them all go away! Just let me be.”
“This is Violet. Do you want Claire here, Mom? Oh, I knew you always loved her more. But, Mom, sometimes…be sensible. I can’t understand…saying…mumbling. Stay…I…take care…you.”
Was this it? Had she really chosen to end her life? Everything was starting to become more distant, but she could still feel a hand on her…and now she realizes what those noises were…the ambulance, the ambulance was here to try to revive her. No, no, no. A herd of men stampeded into the room like mad elephants.
“No! Leave me! I’m fine. It’s all better this way.”
She picked up her arms to flail them in disapproval of being placed onto a stretcher, but they stayed limp at her side. It was hard to believe that these strong arms that had been constantly forced to work for 45 years were now incapable of moving the one time she really wanted them to. The only other time these arms had disappointed her was when they would not move to beat the shit out of Monroe when he embarrassed her and abandoned her in front of the children the perfect gift on their 35th anniversary — which he had forgotten, and for which she had saved up and bought him the car of his dreams — a suped-up red Cadillac straight out of a 1950s movie.
Where was she now? Was she floating? She thought perhaps this was part of her descent into heaven. What a relief, she was so prepared to die and see her Heavenly Father waiting for her behind those pearly gates.
“Mom! Don’t leave me!”
Now she knew where she was. That was undeniably sweet little Claire’s voice and she was strapped to a wooden bed and being carried down the stairs by that stampede from earlier.
And that was it. When Claire’s angelic voice hit her ears and begged her not to leave, she realized what she was doing. She had been abandoned and jilted time and time again in her life, and that feeling is the last thing she would want anyone whom she did love to have to experience as well.
But there she was. Doing the same thing her mother had done to her. She couldn’t die now. Just minutes ago (or was it hours? Her sense of perception is fading quickly) she was ready to die. But now, just as it is probably too late, she realizes that she has left so much undone. That letter neatly pinned to Claire’s pillow wasn’t enough — she was leaving her two teenage children — and leaving Violet to do all the work. Why had she been so hard on Violet? Well, she knew why, because Violet had been so hard on her, but Violet was strong. She would have to hold everything together. Why had she only given Claire a letter? Violet would be the one to take charge, Violet would be the one who would need her advice.
She had left them perhaps worse off than she had been by her mother.
“Violet! That letter to Claire is for you, too. Violet, the dishes have to be done in a certain way. Do not ever give into buying a dishwasher. Hand washing is the way to go. And don’t let Claire drink milk! She’s lactose intolerant and I know she’s been sneaking it. Church every Sunday! Eat the yogurt before it goes bad. What is Lenny doing here? I told him to stay with Claire! I am too young to go. What have I done?”
Violet and Claire watched their mother be transferred onto the stretched and then into the ambulance. Her real thoughts indecipherable to them — they were only mumbles, moans and groans with random names and words littered in between.
She stared at the back of her eyelids. No more whirring and whizzing to be seen — she did not even have enough strength to open her eyelids, and her thoughts were moving slowly, slowly, slowly. Her body grew heavy, heavy, heavy. This was empty and hopeless feeling. If this was death, she really did not want it anymore. Emptiness, emptiness — or was she full — she was heavy — she was full of emptiness and full a sense of abandonment and a sense of overwhelming guilt for abandoning the only two people who had never really let her down and never really would have left her. She was trying to abandon abandonment by leaving this world, and instead she was doing the opposite. This is it. She probably won’t look at the world again, just continue to drift towards these dimly colored lights, all the colors of a magnificent sunset.