Stain of Time

I have been around for far too long.

Many generations of descendants have come and gone before me in my nearly two and a half centuries of life. Cursed was I to watch as they buried my great, great grandson before me. A child of twenty years, gone because of someone texting behind the wheel.

My only living descendant was his year old daughter, with a woman that I never had the chance to meet. They were unwedded, so I know nothing of them or their family.

I lift my feeble arms to bring my cold, clammy hands to my weeping eyes, drawing away tears that have been all too prevalent in recent years. Living through five rounds of cancers, hiding away in some home that my once proud and secure retirement fund barely affords. Unknown to the last child, the last remnant of my family before I realized that there she stood.

She was a beautiful woman, the mother of the last born. The only thing marring her face was the mascara running down her cheeks. There she stood, holding the last hope of my family, the last one to hope to survive my curse. I wipe away the near dry stains that were once tears and reach my arm feebly into her direction. She stepped back, but held her daughter out just enough for me to see her darling face for the first time, hopefully the last.

I pull my arm back, knowing to touch the dearest hope of my once proud world would surely destroy her. I let my head fall as my weeping grew stronger.

And I never raised my head again.

Edited to fix grammatical errors. Enjoy

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