My imagination of last days

In her last days of her life, Pacita Abad was excited about how the bridge would look. All her attention was on her work, despite having to report for cancer treatment daily. Her pain was only transient, in fact would end soon. She wasn't worried at all about how her drugs was reacting. Would the circles turned out too thin? Would the colors harmonized nicely? Are there enough circles? Those are the questions that drew all her strength.

She wanted scale, of which she was devoted growing up in the wide expanse of Batanes. It must be bold, different, and shaped by her decades of listening to her inner soul. The swirling wind of colors must be tamed. Leaning for a pause, she saw that the railings leading to the bridge was not painted. She imagined the scene once more in her mind and felt an incompleteness. She wanted an entrance leading to her spirit, ideas, and visions. 

She took up the brush again. 

Many passer-bys stood and stared, drew in by her vision, and their life changed a little for the better. This is what makes her happy.

A few months after completing her gift to Singapore, Pacita passed away. She had no children.