I held his tiny hand as it slowly lost warmth in mine. I whispered to him even as the machines started to fail. I pressed a kiss to his forehead and watched his chest rise weaker and weaker until it stopped completely. I didn’t let go even when he was gone—until the nurses finally took him from my arms.
**
The cremation room was cold, smelling of burned metal and stale air. Dust drifted through the sunlight like it didn’t belong to anything anymore. I remember thinking maybe it was all that remained of other mothers’ grief. Soon, my child would become part of it too.
I stood there in a black dress that hung loosely on my thin body. I had cried until I couldn’t anymore. My eyes were dry now, but swollen and heavy.
I reached under the white covering and touched Gabriel’s hand. It was stiff, already gone from warmth. I slipped two small blue origami stars into his palm—things I had folded the night before with shaking hands, because I didn’t know what else a mother could give her child at the end.
“Gabriel…”
The staff exchanged uneasy glances before gently pulling the sheet back. And there he was.