This particular story, like many others, was about a woman who did everything she did because it's what she felt was expected of her. She felt she had to put on a particular face to the world, and though she didn't always feel strong and cheerful and kind, she acted that way anyways.
Even when she was dying. And no one else knew it.
Seriously. This woman had gone to the doctor because she had been bleeding ("and not as a result of her monthlies") for months. He diagnosed it direly, and she went immediately from her appointment to a public speaking engagement.
On the train on the way, she considered all she'd be leaving behind. How her children would feel abandoned. How people would say such kind things at her service. How her husband would move on. She began bargaining with God, then making excuses for Him when she decided he probably wouldn't save her.
It was all incredibly heartbreaking.
Then she arrived at her engagement and spoke in front of hundreds of girls about being a woman and following your dreams, bleeding profusely for the whole 20 minutes. And didn't tell a soul. She was simply grateful she was wearing a thick, dark wool skirt that wouldn't show.
Even now, retelling (at a very high level) the story, it makes me sad to the point of fighting back tears. Why anyone would ever want to suffer anything alone is beyond my understanding. I understand personal strength, but I also understand that sometimes that becomes a stubborn sort of pride.
Anyways, Drabble had my eyeballs dribbling. Double-time.
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