By: Deshna Ubeda
When I walked into the hospital room, he was laying on his
side in a fetal position, cradling himself, curled up. He looked up at me and smiled- such a bright
smile- for a man diminished so. I was
shocked that he might recognize me in such a state. The pain in his leg was really bothering him
and it was obvious he was seeing a reality that was not visible to us. I wanted to keep him smiling as he had when I
looked into his eyes and told him, I love you.
So, I asked him if he remembered playing golf. Again, that youthful twinkle touching his
eyes, and he said, “oh yes, I remember.”
I said, “you were so good at golf!” “Yes, I was.” Smugly. I said- to keep the conversation going, “I
remember sneaking cookies from the kitchen while you were sleeping.” He laughed and said, “I remember the time you
were playing golf and it was pouring and you said, I am not going to quit!”
That’s strange, I thought- what is he referring to? I have never played golf
and if I had I certainly would have quit in the pouring rain. It occurred to me then that the smile he was
giving me was not a smile that I had ever received from him. There was flirtation in it and a boyish
confidence that I hadn’t seen in my granddad.
I looked over at my Dad and saw him smile gratitude through
his tears. He had been through so much
over the last three years with this man, this man that was once his strong
father and had slowly but surely become his grumpy un-thankful teenager. But it didn’t decrease the love he felt for
the man and I could see his anguish.
For lack of anything better to say, I said “I love you so
much.” There was that smile again, with the one corner turned up. “I love you too, he said.” And then, “You probably should look at rings
and pick out one you like.” Hmmm…was he referring to grandmas rings? Because
those treasures had long since been dispersed to the family. Finally I realized
then, that he wasn’t smiling or talking to me.
It was a very strange feeling to look into my granddad’s blue-grey eyes
and know that he was seeing my grandma, not me.
Did I look like her at some point?
I don’t know. But something about
me, or the way I was talking to him triggered that reality for him.
Over the next hour we slowly regressed,
talking about “our” golf times and his fun in the club with his friends and
about the great life “we” had together.
Then
we went back a little farther and he said, quite seriously, “You know, its time
that you decided whether or not you love me.”
“I do love you!” I said bravely.
And my dying granddad caressed my arm in tenderness.
I said, “You know, I will be ok. You can go now. I’ll hold your hand and you can go. I’ll be ok without you. Do you know that?”
“No, I don’t know that.” He said sadly…lost.
“I will.” I said.
Hoping he believed me, hoping he didn’t look too clearly at me and see
the blatant act. That he wouldn’t
suddenly see me instead of her.
He was quiet for a while.
“Its easing out little by little,” he said.
I pictured his spirit lifting out of the tired old pained
body.
“Do you see a light?” I ventured, after all, it was the
first time I had watched a person dying.
“No, not yet,” the man that wasn’t really present and wasn’t
seeing reality, so clearly replied.
“I’m ok. So, you
don’t need to worry about me anymore.
Ok?”
“Ok.” A pause. Was he
going? No.
“Its over there somewhere, on the shelf.” He pointed to the
invisible shelf that did not exist in the sterile hospital room.
“Ok, thanks,” I said.
“I’m just so tired.
I’m just going to stretch out here for a bit and take a rest.”
“Ok, that’s a good idea.
You take a rest. I’ll be back in
a little while.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, confused and scared. I looked at my parents in trepidation. I
couldn’t leave him like this, could I?
If I am her, I need to stay right?
I laid my head on his chest and heard his heart beating quite loudly and
strongly. Maybe he isn’t dying, I
thought. He’d be there in an hour. I
hoped.
“I’ll be back.” He held my hand, her hand, tightly. Not wanting her to leave.
Surprisingly, when we came back, after a nourishing snack
and a strong drink, an hour and many tears later, he looked right at me and
there she was again. My grandma, a
lovely lady whom had long ago left us leaving only traces of herself, was
there- young, healthy, in love with the man who lay before her. What could I do, I had no choice but to
continue with him on his strange journey.
“Hey honey,” I said.
“Dad,” my dad whispered through blurry eyes. “She called him Dad.”
“Hey…Dad.” I said.
He laughed quietly, his eyes were heavy and darker, more
distant. He looked toward me but mostly
past me as he held my hand.
“Where did you go?”
“We went to look at rings!” my dad said.
“Good, good. She
likes the gold one with the three diamonds.
She told
“Hey, you know what?
Freddy’s in love. I have noticed
for a long time.” He said happily.
“Who is he in love with?”
No answer. He had time traveled
again, I think.
“I just want to rest.”
“I bet. You have been
through a lot.”
“It hurts so bad!” he looked at me fiercely, the anger we
had seen much of in the last few years reining once again. I rubbed his arm and leg.
"The nurse will be in soon to help with that.” The gaze softened.
“We can hold hands and go together, you don’t need to be
afraid.” I said, tears betraying my words.
“Ok, I just want to stretch out and take a little rest.”
“That’s a good idea. You rest. I love you.”
I kissed him on his cheek and on his soft forehead that smelled of soap
and old skin.
“I know you do… I am going to put my arm around you, you lay
down with me and let’s take a rest.” He
used his right arm to lift his left arm around my back. I lay down with my head on his chest. He closed his eyes. I could tell he wanted to go, but something
was holding him back. I lay there,
crying, saying goodbye. Smelling the
smell of dying, feeling his heavy, still strong arm around me, hearing his
heart quietly beat its unwillingness to let go.
I said goodbye, knowing I was really saying
goodbye. I said goodbye, within my own
heart to the granddad I once knew. The
granddad who fought over the remote with me, who told the same stories each
year, who had a belly laugh, and a winning confidence. The granddad who opened his home to me and my
silly friends, who clipped coupons and always found the deal. Whose old heart never betrayed him, who loved
his wife for more years that I can imagine living.
He passed the next day. He had left the years of his early love and gone back even further, crying out for mommy, crying out in fear and aloneness. Thankfully, the angel that is my mom, found within her the spiritual guide and prayed aloud in his last moments. From within her she found the song that would finally lull him to the next dream. He took his last breaths as she sang Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound.
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