Her wide-open eyes searched into the nothingness flooding over her, seeking she knew not what. Her arms reached out in supplication, wanting to grasp, to be grasped. Her eyelids dropped and rose again and within the depth of her she knew that the blurred figures in front of her were there for a purpose, but what? She cried within herself, wanting to understand. She was terrified.

Within her, memory stirred. And she remembered when she used to cry because she was afraid, but could not tell of what. And her mother would laugh at her and call her a silly girl. But her father, he who made her life, would take her in his arms and hold her close, rubbing his whiskered face against hers, tickling her, driving the tears away, making her laugh as he whispered: "Hush, there now, hush", with his lips close to her ears, "Hush now, my lovely." She reached out hoping to grasp his hands but deep within her she knew that would not be, he was long gone.

So long ago. And yet, she recalled, not before he had guided her towards an awareness of a better life than they normally led on his Dockyard wage. He would take her and her sisters to the opera, now and then, when he had worked overtime in between the wars and his slim pay packet would put on some extra weight. He would hire a karozzin to take them to the town on their side of the harbour.

Clip-clop, clip-clop went the horses' hooves. And at the water's edge they'd get into a boat and her heart would be in her mouth because she was afraid of the depth and darkness of the sea but he would once again draw her close and tell her not to mind her sisters laughing at her because she was always afraid of something or other. Draw her and keep her close until they landed in Valletta and walked up and up to arrive at and go inside that magnificent building which took her breath away and filled her with wonder, even as she noticed that the rest of the folk there were much better dressed than they - but her father did not seem to mind as he whispered explanations of the story being sung on stage to them.

And she jerked and strained in her bed her empty eyes searching. And she flung out her arms from side to side, seeking to grasp, hearing voices in the afar but not understanding. And she remembered once again how the fear of her childhood would not go away, making her feel that she would never make her way in life and yet did not prevent her from becoming a seamstress sought out in their village. Sought out but never going out for her mother would frown on that. Frown and especially say with grim intent that she must not mingle with married women, she must keep away, and she never understood what her mother meant by that. She kept away from one and all, not from married women alone.

Except that, as she sewed in the front room of their little house he went by one day and saw her. And she saw him and felt her breath taken away. And when he retraced his steps to pass by her door again and looked in boldly, her heart all but stopped. Her instantly-captured heart knew no other love. Not then, not ever, after he was gone just a few years into their marriage, he, healthy and athletic, laid low by the blow of an oar he was pulling which knifed into his side puncturing she knew not what, she only knew that he was dead and that life had borne out the fear she had felt at the height of their happiness, a fear that it would not last for happiness so great would attract jealousy. And it did, the jealousy of death.

She jerked and flung her arms this side and that more fiercely as her mind raced and dug up her fears of old, her premonitions which came so true as her happiness was wrenched from her but leaving her at least with living memories of him in the form of two of their children who out of four had survived the blight of the war years. And her eyes opened wider and the gurgle in her throat became a cry, a want. She wanted to penetrate the later years that had brought her at least a new measure of happiness in the form of the offspring her own in turn had had, and then the happy years as the offspring grew and made her a great grandma and at times she had felt for the second time in her life queen of the universe.

A sparkle came into her eyes and lit them up. And to her joy the blurred figures came into focus. There were her daughters and theirs, their children and, yes, her great grandchildren. Looking at her wide-eyed. The little children she had grown to love. And her eyes dimmed again and a tear rolled down a side of her face. And yet her heart was not down, she was not afraid of what she now understood lay ahead.

For the kids by her side brought to mind another child. A gentle child she would focus on in the little church of her village when she went to pray but could not find the right words. It had been as if he spoke to her instead telling her, "Hush now, don't be afraid. Do not lose heart. Believe I can be your light and when the time comes will show you the always way."

And those standing around her bed saw that she no longer jerked in fearful restlessness. That her taut face relaxed and was now lit up with a beautiful smile. Even as her last breath faded away...