He lay in his bed, barely able to keep his eyes open. It was
getting harder to breath, he could hear the lady next to him telling his family
that there was fluid in his lungs. He would have shivered if he could, his arms
and legs were feeling cold. At least he could feel still feel them he thought
to himself. He had lost the feeling in his hands yesterday, or was it the day
before? He couldn’t remember so well anymore. He knew he had been laying in
this bed forever or at least it had sure as hell felt like it. He was tired,
ready to sleep. He closed his eyes and thought about his family, those who had
gone before him; those he hoped were waiting for him where ever it was he was
going. He was the last of his siblings, his sisters had passed some years ago,
his brother just last year. His brother had suffered through the same illness
that plagued him now. He had spent so much of his life just not wanting to talk
to his brother that it had just become the normal thing to do. He thought he
should have made more time for them. Called them, wrote letters, anything,
there was never any hurry because there was always tomorrow till there wasn’t. Hopefully
he’d see them when he woke up. He thought about wife, she had left a while ago.
Although they weren’t together or even spoke that often, he still thought of
her. He smiled as he did. Sure things didn’t work out for them and they were
probably better off apart, but there had been some good times. There were too
many memories for his tired old mind to retrieve. There were plenty of good
ones though. His children came to mind, he had three of them. He had two
daughters and a son to be exact. His oldest was his first born daughter, she
was so tiny. She could fit into the palm of your hands. A few years later he
had a son. Every man has dreams of having a son to follow in his footsteps and become
the man you wished you had been. Lastly was the youngest, another little girl.
She came a few years after his son, a surprise and blessing to the family. He regretted
a lot of the choices he had made along the way. At times he tried to be a disciplinarian,
but he was a product of his raising and was mostly just abusive. The thought
of it made the tears in his eyes well up but his arms to too weak to wipe them
away. He had a love of the drink and comradery that you could only find at your
local watering hole. He was home for the important days, holidays, birthday and
most school engagements. They had grown up before he had even noticed and just
like that, they were gone. Moved on to start their own lives, to make a better
one than he made for them. He would talk to them all from time to time,
becoming closest with the youngest. His oldest had made some alternative lifestyle
choices. You just didn’t do that back in his day and although she tried, he
just couldn’t connect with her on any level to tighten their relationship. His
son had moved away as well, they were too much alike in temperament but not
much of anything else. He was everything his father was not. Once he had moved
out their contact was sparse, a phone call or the occasional visit. His
youngest had been the most like him and had been there for him. She was by his
side now and it was a comfort to him. He thought at least one of them didn’t
resent me. She held his hand and squeezed it; he wished he could squeeze it
back. He was so very tired, he wanted to sleep. Just breathing was wearing him out;
I should just sleep he thought. He hoped he would have good dreams, good long
dreams. Maybe this was a dream right now he thought, then he let the blackness
wash over himself and waited for what came next.
