All of this is meant to calm
me. To trick my senses into
thinking I’m in someone’s living room.
There’s a fake leather couch facing a fireplace with silk flowers lining
the mantle. A half dozen
easy-to-clean pleather chairs are scattered throughout the room along with
charming lamps, plastic floor plants, and strangely useless tables. The wall art seems expensive and devoid
of any meaning. The only object on
the far wall is a sliding window.
On the other side of the glass isn’t an ideal aristocratically manicured
lawn, but a middle-aged woman under the crush of paperwork. It’s an obvious ruse hidden under the
smell of lavender.
“Are you the grandson?” A
stocky woman with broad shoulders and puffy blonde hair asks. Her blouse is a field of cartoon flowers. I nod. “Follow me, please.”
She kindly speaks to me, but I’m not listening. I’m just worried about what I’ll see
behind one of these faux wood doors.
Behind this door. “Would
you like me to come in with you, sir?”
I shake my head.
I try to slow my breathing
so air flows silently through my nose.
For some reason, it makes my heart beat faster. My clammy hand clasps the steel door
handle. As I patiently push the
door open, there’s a distinct repetitive beep and an odor that can’t be covered
by synthetic lavender. I peek into
the pseudo-bedroom as quietly as possible. The curtains, veneered headboard, and plain couch don’t
comfort or distract me. Under a
mound of domestic quilts is my grandpa.
I wipe the tears from my
eyes as I take a seat. His face is
even gaunter than when I last saw him this morning. A machine appears to be doing the breathing for him. He makes a strained gargling sound with
every expansion and contraction of his chest. There’s a continuous infusion of morphine into his veins.
Grandpa’s arm sluggishly
rises under the blankets. I feign
a smile and my eyes are rubbed raw.
“Granpa, it’s awright. Whatcha
need?” His vision is glassy and
the eyelids barely open. He can’t
speak. “Is yer arm uncomfortable? Lemme help ya get it outta yer
blanket.” His arm is so fragile
and unrecognizable from the workingman he once was. I gently massage his forearm. “I don’t know if ya can hear me or understand, but it’s
gonna be awright. I’m just gonna
talk with ya fer a bit.”
Grandpa was in-and-out for
the next few hours. I’d sit
quietly holding his hand while he slept.
When his eyes opened I’d chat about funny memories, the weather, and just
anything that came to mind. The
nurses would check-in and I’d use that time for a bathroom break. I’d avoid other patient’s families
because I had enough sadness of my own.
After some quiet time, I’d return to his bedside.
I carefully place my hand on
his cheek. “Granpa, I want ya ta
know I love ya.” His eyes can’t
seem to focus as his head rolls around.
“Yer da best person I’ve ever met ‘nd I’m proud ta call ya my
‘granpa’. I waited too long ta
tell ya this, I guess. But, I
wanna thank ya fer everythin’ ya did fer me. I know it wasn’t easy.
It’s hard ta sum up a lifetime of gratitude. No matter what, ya were there fer me. Fer that, ya’ll always be special ‘nd
I’ll do whatever it takes ta justify da faith ya had in me.” I lightly caress his arm in
silence. The sensation appears to
soothe him.
I didn’t notice it was after
3am until the nurse suggested I sleep on the pull-out couch. “Oh, thanks but I’ll go home ‘nd come
back in da mornin’. I ‘preciate
all yer doin’ fer him.” I put on
my hat, thanked the other nurses on duty, and hit the street. Grandpa’s my all-consuming thought. I don’t care about anything else. The front door was left unlocked and I
pick up some of the mess that was made moving Grandpa into the ambulance. It’s exceptionally quiet in the house
as I brush my teeth. I climb into
bed and wonder if I should pray.
Couldn’t hurt. The darkness
in the room amplifies as I plead on his behalf to the unknown. To myself. The phone shatters my concentration and I know what they are
going to tell me. “Thank you,” I
reply, “Go ‘head with da arrangements as planned ‘nd I’ll stop by ta sign da papers
tamorrow.” I didn’t sleep from the
rest of the night.
Thank you for reading and your support. This would not be possible without you!
If you have any submissions, questions, comments, suggestions, or anything else, please feel free to contact me at: LukeArchaism@gmail.com
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