A Flash Too Bright

I saw flashes of my Grandma healthy, strong, witty. Flash. I saw her after she fell, the fall that guided her to the hospital where she found out what had twisted itself in her body: cancer. Stage four Sarcoma cancer. Flash. I saw her how I had known her for the last two months: sitting in a chair at my house, eyes glazed over, screaming in pain and shouting at ghosts that she saw through the eyes of her pain killers. Flash. I felt my head on a pillow and smiled as something wet fell from my eye and crossed my cheek. My smile was absent; it was not full of joy or happiness, just empty, numb confusion.