As a firefly trapped in a jar, a faint blue luminescence flickered in the corner. It solidified, taking the shape of her grandpa, weathered face etched with concern. He used to tell her stories about constellations, his voice a comforting rumble.
"Grandpa?" Sarah rasped, her voice cracking.
The figure shimmered, solidifying further. "Sarah, little one." His voice, though soft, carried the weight of the beyond. "You shouldn't be here like this."
Tears stung Sarah's eyes. "I can't leave her."
"She wouldn't want you to wither away with her," he said, his gaze flickering toward her mother's still form. "She needs peace, Sarah, and so do you."
Sarah felt a cold dread creep in. "Peace? You mean..."
Grandpa gestured sadly. "It's her time, little one. Don't hold her back."
A sob escaped Sarah's lips. "But where will she go?" Memories of Emily Dexter, the psychic from their town, flooded her mind.
As if sensing her thoughts, Grandpa smiled. "Think of it as a spa day, like Emily says. A time to heal, to be with loved ones... all before their next journey."
Sarah clung to the image, a warm sanctuary in the storm of grief. A spa day. Not darkness, not oblivion.
As the rain outside intensified, Sarah felt a warmth bloom in her chest. It wasn't the warmth of a living person, but a comforting presence. Her mom.
"I love you, Mom," Sarah whispered, tears flowing freely. "Go on your spa day. I'll be okay."
The luminescence surrounding her mother pulsed once, and faded. Sarah knew, with a certainty which defied explanation, her mother was at peace. Grandpa remained for a moment.
"I'll be here for you, Sarah," he said, his voice filled with an ethereal strength. "And so will she. Always."
The blue light softened, bathing the sterile room in a gentle blue glow. As Sarah drifted to sleep, she knew a guiding presence was beside her, not of the living, but of a love which transcended the boundaries of life and death.
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