This morning I was traveling through the back roads between Dallastown and Jacobus on the way to meet a friend for coffee. I was listening to a song on a CD when the lyrics caught my attention. I hit track #9 again to listen from the beginning. Prompted by the gifted song writer, vivid images filled my mind.
Just days from turning nineteen, I found myself in a place I did not wish to be...in a hospital room in a wing filled with the smell of death. In the bed, my step dad, Jim. On his left sat his mom, my grama. On his right sat my mom. I stood awkwardly near the foot of his bed. Silence filled the room. Poisoned with cancer, we waited for death to take him captive.
I don't know why I felt I needed to be there that day. He was admitted on Friday because my mom and the visiting nurse could no longer care for him at our home. Even though unconscious it was obvious he was in severe pain. The cancer was having it's way with his flesh. My mom, as skinny as a rail after three months of living in hell, needed a break. She and my grama took a walk out side. I promised to stay with him. As they left the room and headed for the clean sweet air, I stood there looking over a man who I loved dearly. Slowly, I moved closer. Why was he hanging on like this? Then I remember a conversation I overheard right after he was diagnosed. He promised my mom he'd never leave her. I think he believed that. And so did she.
Tears fell over my cheeks as I gazed at his beautiful but sunken in face. His eyes opened but focused on the ceiling tiles. Moving even closer I could see the grimace on his face caused by the pain that was filling his body. Holding on to keep his promise. Silly man. I took his hand in mine and leaned close to his left ear. I forced out these words, "Rest, please rest. I will take good care of mom, Kris and Nick. I promise." I could almost feel him relax as if those were the words he needed to hear before embarking on the journey before him.
Just then my mom and grama entered the room. They took their normal places on either side of him, I stood close to my mom. Then it began. His breathing became irregular. The tension in the room could be felt so clearly. His chest quickly rose tall as his eye widened. Mom and grama stood up, knowing what was happening. Then his chest slowly fell, as his body exhaled for the last time. A peace came across his face and could be seen in his body as well. The excruciating pain was gone. But so was he.
After a brief moment of pure silence the room filled with uncontrollable cries and tears and hugs. I've never seen my mom like that before. It was horrible. A memory I wish I could erase. I don't remember much after that. But I do recall walking out of the hospital, feeling as if we were abandoning him. It was early December and the sun was setting low in the sky. It was a stunning display. I stood there soaking in the last days rays and reflecting on the beauty in the sky. Mom asked me what I was doing. I turned to her and said, "Mom, Jim's painting the sky for you. Isn't it pretty?" She and my grama stopped and turned to the West. All three of us stood silently in the parking lot, watching the day come to an end through water filled eyes.
Jim was a very talented artist - oils were his preference - he enjoyed painting nature scenes. His final masterpiece was spectacular.
It's funny how words, even words from a song, can spark such deep memories. The lyrics read "love is watching someone die." Powerful words. And so true.
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