The Color of Heaven Read Online Free PDF

complication of the transplant, which was affecting her liver. It
    explained her constant fever, the painful diarrhea, and the strange rash that had broken out al over her smal , frail body.
    The medical team ordered platelet transfusions, diuretics, and anti-clotting medications.
    When the pain in her bel y escalated sharply one evening, I cal ed Michael right away and told him to come to the hospital, even though Dr. Jenkins
    was in charge of Megan’s care.
    He said he would be there soon, in twenty minutes.
    Two hours later, he stepped off the elevator – but it was too late.
    He had waited too long.

Chapter Fifteen
    February 19, 2006
    Despite the heroic efforts of the doctors and nurses who did everything they could to save her, Megan passed away ten minutes before Michael
    arrived.
    The death of my child was the death of my own heart. That night in the hospital was pure agony. I cried for hours and refused to leave her. Final y,
    they had to escort me out of her room so they could take her body to the morgue.
    The funeral, four days later, was a deep black hole of sorrow and disbelief. I was flooded with despair. I ached over the decision to go ahead with
    the bone marrow transplant.
    Perhaps if we had waited, we might have found a better match, or perhaps her life would have been prolonged, even for a year or two.
    I felt no peace.
    Al I wanted was to hold her in my arms again, to breathe in the sweet scent of her skin, press my lips to the top of her head.
    I couldn’t believe she was gone, that I would never see her again, never hold her, never hear the sound of her laughter. I wanted to climb into the
    coffin with her and go wherever it was that she had gone.
    I didn’t know where that was, and it killed me. It kil ed me not to know where my child was, or whether or not she was safe.
    Who was taking care of her? Was she scared?
    I cannot say anything more than that.
    There are simply no words. It is inexpressible.

Chapter Sixteen
    My sister Jen was a great comfort to me when Megan died. She came immediately and helped with the funeral arrangements, and took a leave of
    absence from work to stay with us for a month.
    She held me when I cried, and talked to me of other things when I needed a distraction from the crushing weight of my grief.
    Some days were especial y difficult, but Jen always had the wisdom to say the right thing, and more importantly, she knew what not to say, because
    she, like me, understood loss. We were both very young when we said goodbye to our mother.
    Michael, however, who also understood loss, seemed somehow immune to the intensity of grief I was experiencing. I never saw him cry, and he
    usual y left the room whenever I fel apart, which happened quite often that first month.
    Thank God for Jen. I never would have gotten through any of it without her.
    o0o
    I received many sympathy cards from friends and family, and they were al deeply appreciated during that very dark time. One, especial y, touched
    my heart.
    It arrived late, two months after Megan’s death, and it came from Kirk Duncan, my old boyfriend from high school. It had been more than ten years
    since we last communicated by email, so I was surprised when I saw the return address on the envelope.
    Dear Sophie,
    I am terribly sorry to hear about the loss of your daughter. I can’t imagine the pain you are going through, but please know that you and your
    husband are in my thoughts.
    I took the liberty of making a donation to the oncology department in the children’s hospital in my area, which I put in your family’s name. I wish
    there was more I could do, but I hope this smal gesture wil let you know that I am thinking of you and your family.
    Your friend, Kirk
    I cried when I first read it, then reread it a number of times that day.
    How grateful I was for this thoughtful act from such an old and beloved friend.
    That night I slipped the card into the pages of a hardcover picture book that I had kept from my childhood.