saw she wasn’t breathing and I called 911. They got here in five minutes but it was too late. Would have been too late if they were only seconds behind me when I first discovered her body. Someone told me she had been dead almost half an hour by the time they got here.”
Jamie’s mother clasped her father -in-law’s right hand in both of hers and gave a gentle shake. “She seemed so healthy the last time we saw her,” she said. “Only three months ago.”
“That’s the thing with heart disease,” Hal said. He sipped from his cup. “It’s not like cancer. You don’t slowly waste away. There’s no time to set your affairs in order and do all of the things you wanted to do before the final day comes. No time to say goodbye. One minute you’re here, the next…” He offered a snap of the fingers, signifying how quickly and suddenly the end could come.
“She lived a full life,” Leslie said.
Hal smiled wanly and squeezed his daughter-in-law’s hand. “Thanks to you. After Brian abandoned you… after he disappeared… I thought that would be the end of her. Despite his issues, despite what he did… she loved him very much. He was her only child. But you… you made her feel whole again. Despite everything that happened. You meant as much to her as she meant to you.”
They lapsed into silence again, the low chatter from the other rooms filling the kitchen with the sound of light static. Jamie and Steve said nothing, allowing Linda and Hal Whitman to share their moment.
Jamie’s grandfather took another pull of his water, and the tinkling sound of ice on glass pulled Jamie’s attention away from his family and redirected it to the burgeoning pressure in his bladder. He hadn’t taken a leak since… since the airport hours ago, and he suddenly found that he needed to pee.
“Excuse me,” Jamie said . “Nature calls.” He quickly left the kitchen and made his way to the main bathroom, where he found four elderly strangers waiting to use the facilities. He couldn’t hold it in much longer, so he turned and made his way down a short hallway to his grandparent’s—his grandfather’s —bedroom. A hastily written sign on a piece of lined notebook paper taped to the door said: Private. Please do not enter. Jamie ignored the sign and pushed the door open. He assumed the message was for the neighbors and friends, not family. After all, he had been in his grandparent’s bedroom dozens of times. No reason he couldn’t go in now.
He gently closed the door behind him and surveyed the room. The first thing to hit him was the smell. It was not the stink of sickness and death he had expected he would find. Instead, the small bedroom smelled like his grandmother. Like lavender and vanilla. The gentle scent brought tears to his eyes. His eyes fell to the comforter, which was crumpled at the foot of the bed where he assumed his grandfather had tossed it upon finding his wife not breathing yesterday. He saw the impression on the bed where his grandmother had died. It was a surreal sight to be standing in the room where his Grandma Anna had passed. And at that moment, it finally hit him. He would never see his grandmother again. She was dead and gone and that was it. He almost collapsed onto the plush carpet as sorrow overwhelmed him, but he controlled his emotions. Tamped them down. Smothered them. He had plenty of practice doing that
Jamie would have liked to explore the bedroom further, study the mementos of his grandmother’s life which were scattered on the dressers and nightstands, gaze at the photos which had chronicled her life, but his bladder did protest greatly, so instead he turned to the bathroom in the corner. The door was closed, but there was no secondary signs warning away possible pissers and crappers.
He opened the door and stepped into the bathroom, closed it slowly behind him.
Unaware that
Jamie’s mother clasped her father -in-law’s right hand in both of hers and gave a gentle shake. “She seemed so healthy the last time we saw her,” she said. “Only three months ago.”
“That’s the thing with heart disease,” Hal said. He sipped from his cup. “It’s not like cancer. You don’t slowly waste away. There’s no time to set your affairs in order and do all of the things you wanted to do before the final day comes. No time to say goodbye. One minute you’re here, the next…” He offered a snap of the fingers, signifying how quickly and suddenly the end could come.
“She lived a full life,” Leslie said.
Hal smiled wanly and squeezed his daughter-in-law’s hand. “Thanks to you. After Brian abandoned you… after he disappeared… I thought that would be the end of her. Despite his issues, despite what he did… she loved him very much. He was her only child. But you… you made her feel whole again. Despite everything that happened. You meant as much to her as she meant to you.”
They lapsed into silence again, the low chatter from the other rooms filling the kitchen with the sound of light static. Jamie and Steve said nothing, allowing Linda and Hal Whitman to share their moment.
Jamie’s grandfather took another pull of his water, and the tinkling sound of ice on glass pulled Jamie’s attention away from his family and redirected it to the burgeoning pressure in his bladder. He hadn’t taken a leak since… since the airport hours ago, and he suddenly found that he needed to pee.
“Excuse me,” Jamie said . “Nature calls.” He quickly left the kitchen and made his way to the main bathroom, where he found four elderly strangers waiting to use the facilities. He couldn’t hold it in much longer, so he turned and made his way down a short hallway to his grandparent’s—his grandfather’s —bedroom. A hastily written sign on a piece of lined notebook paper taped to the door said: Private. Please do not enter. Jamie ignored the sign and pushed the door open. He assumed the message was for the neighbors and friends, not family. After all, he had been in his grandparent’s bedroom dozens of times. No reason he couldn’t go in now.
He gently closed the door behind him and surveyed the room. The first thing to hit him was the smell. It was not the stink of sickness and death he had expected he would find. Instead, the small bedroom smelled like his grandmother. Like lavender and vanilla. The gentle scent brought tears to his eyes. His eyes fell to the comforter, which was crumpled at the foot of the bed where he assumed his grandfather had tossed it upon finding his wife not breathing yesterday. He saw the impression on the bed where his grandmother had died. It was a surreal sight to be standing in the room where his Grandma Anna had passed. And at that moment, it finally hit him. He would never see his grandmother again. She was dead and gone and that was it. He almost collapsed onto the plush carpet as sorrow overwhelmed him, but he controlled his emotions. Tamped them down. Smothered them. He had plenty of practice doing that
Jamie would have liked to explore the bedroom further, study the mementos of his grandmother’s life which were scattered on the dressers and nightstands, gaze at the photos which had chronicled her life, but his bladder did protest greatly, so instead he turned to the bathroom in the corner. The door was closed, but there was no secondary signs warning away possible pissers and crappers.
He opened the door and stepped into the bathroom, closed it slowly behind him.
Unaware that
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