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Authors: Rhonda Dennis
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in the corner of the room, gnawing away at my fingernails while I desperately try to overhear their hushed conversation.
“You have my word, sir,” Fletcher says, lifting the elderly man’s hand and placing it in his own. After he finishes the handshake, he gently replaces Grampy’s hand on his chest and joins me in the corner. “He wants to talk to you.”
I’m instantly at his bedside.
“Will you help me sit up more? I’m too flat.”
“Sure, Grampy.” I push the button, and he smiles when the head of the bed is finally in a position he likes.
“Good,” he says through his mask, “I think I’m going to take another nap.”
“Okay, Grampy. Rest well. I’m right here if you need anything,” I say, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
He squeezes my hand, “I know, my girl. You’ve always been there for me. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Always.”
He smiles while gently nodding his head, and his hand goes lax in mine. I bury the emotions I’m feeling before rejoining Fletcher on the sofa. Grampy’s new position offers us a better view of him, and I find myself mesmerized with his oxygen mask. Condensation builds, then instantly disappears with each full respiratory cycle. Over and over again, I watch as the mask fogs up, and then goes clear. Fogs up, goes clear. Fogs up, goes clear…
Chapter Six
“Miss Mason, excuse me. I’m sorry to wake you. Miss Mason?”
A nurse in rose colored scrubs stands before me. Disoriented, I open my eyes wider to get my bearings. The sun is just rising because the room is coated with a pinkish-orange glow. I must’ve fallen asleep on Fletcher’s shoulder. He jerks awake as soon as I move, and I slowly turn my neck to work out the horrible kink.
“Yes?” I ask, “Is everything okay?”
“Miss Mason, I’m so sorry, but your grandfather has passed away. I checked in on him about twenty minutes ago, and there was no change in his condition. I was making another set of rounds, and… I’m very sorry for your loss.”
I will the nurse to stay where she is. She’s blocking the sight of my lifeless grandfather with her body, and I’m not ready to see him. My amazing grandfather is gone, and all that remains is the shell that he carried himself around in for his eighty-two years on earth. His zeal, his compassion, his caring, his life—gone. That damned vice grips my heart again, and the pain is virtually unbearable. I purposely zone out in an effort to make it easier to deal with the situation.
Fletcher pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly. I’m glad I’m facing toward the window and not toward Grampy. I’m so emotionally detached that I don’t even reprimand him for holding me; I just go with it. The trees are gently swaying in the breeze outside. Cars travel up and down the streets. People bustle from one sidewalk to another. Life goes on, but not for my Grampy.
It takes me a little while, but a level of detachment that makes functioning possible finally occurs. I push free from Fletcher’s arms and stand to look the nurse squarely in the face. “What now?” I ask.
“We’ll give you as much time as you need to spend with him. After you’ve paid your last respects, we’ll be in touch with the funeral home of your choice, and they will take over from there.”
“His wishes were for Kincaide Funeral Home to handle his final arrangements. He worked out something with them… I don’t know what it is. He just told me to use Kincaide.”
“Very well. I’ll contact them shortly.” She stays in the room just a bit longer, doing something by Grampy’s bed. I still won’t look. I hear the door shut, and Fletcher’s shuffling stops behind me. His hand’s upon my shoulder, and I close my eyes.
“I’m fine. I don’t want to do the whole touchy-feely-cry-and-talk-it-out thing. Okay? I just want to handle this my
“You have my word, sir,” Fletcher says, lifting the elderly man’s hand and placing it in his own. After he finishes the handshake, he gently replaces Grampy’s hand on his chest and joins me in the corner. “He wants to talk to you.”
I’m instantly at his bedside.
“Will you help me sit up more? I’m too flat.”
“Sure, Grampy.” I push the button, and he smiles when the head of the bed is finally in a position he likes.
“Good,” he says through his mask, “I think I’m going to take another nap.”
“Okay, Grampy. Rest well. I’m right here if you need anything,” I say, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
He squeezes my hand, “I know, my girl. You’ve always been there for me. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Always.”
He smiles while gently nodding his head, and his hand goes lax in mine. I bury the emotions I’m feeling before rejoining Fletcher on the sofa. Grampy’s new position offers us a better view of him, and I find myself mesmerized with his oxygen mask. Condensation builds, then instantly disappears with each full respiratory cycle. Over and over again, I watch as the mask fogs up, and then goes clear. Fogs up, goes clear. Fogs up, goes clear…
Chapter Six
“Miss Mason, excuse me. I’m sorry to wake you. Miss Mason?”
A nurse in rose colored scrubs stands before me. Disoriented, I open my eyes wider to get my bearings. The sun is just rising because the room is coated with a pinkish-orange glow. I must’ve fallen asleep on Fletcher’s shoulder. He jerks awake as soon as I move, and I slowly turn my neck to work out the horrible kink.
“Yes?” I ask, “Is everything okay?”
“Miss Mason, I’m so sorry, but your grandfather has passed away. I checked in on him about twenty minutes ago, and there was no change in his condition. I was making another set of rounds, and… I’m very sorry for your loss.”
I will the nurse to stay where she is. She’s blocking the sight of my lifeless grandfather with her body, and I’m not ready to see him. My amazing grandfather is gone, and all that remains is the shell that he carried himself around in for his eighty-two years on earth. His zeal, his compassion, his caring, his life—gone. That damned vice grips my heart again, and the pain is virtually unbearable. I purposely zone out in an effort to make it easier to deal with the situation.
Fletcher pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly. I’m glad I’m facing toward the window and not toward Grampy. I’m so emotionally detached that I don’t even reprimand him for holding me; I just go with it. The trees are gently swaying in the breeze outside. Cars travel up and down the streets. People bustle from one sidewalk to another. Life goes on, but not for my Grampy.
It takes me a little while, but a level of detachment that makes functioning possible finally occurs. I push free from Fletcher’s arms and stand to look the nurse squarely in the face. “What now?” I ask.
“We’ll give you as much time as you need to spend with him. After you’ve paid your last respects, we’ll be in touch with the funeral home of your choice, and they will take over from there.”
“His wishes were for Kincaide Funeral Home to handle his final arrangements. He worked out something with them… I don’t know what it is. He just told me to use Kincaide.”
“Very well. I’ll contact them shortly.” She stays in the room just a bit longer, doing something by Grampy’s bed. I still won’t look. I hear the door shut, and Fletcher’s shuffling stops behind me. His hand’s upon my shoulder, and I close my eyes.
“I’m fine. I don’t want to do the whole touchy-feely-cry-and-talk-it-out thing. Okay? I just want to handle this my
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