Beginnings and Endings

The old man lay still, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady. His body felt heavy, sinking into his bed below. The room was peaceful and unmoving, with the only noise being the rhythmic beat of his heart that rang in his ears. He slowly opened his eyes and looked to his left to see out his bedside window. The sun had not yet set, there was still time. She could still make it, if he could only hold on a little longer. The strength it took was wearing down on him, and his fragile old body could not bear it much longer. He knew this time was coming, but he prayed it could wait a few more minutes. His eyes lazily gazed around the room, panning over the many keepsakes and photographs. He had looked them over countless times, yet his eyes froze on a framed image of himself as a young boy. He was standing next to a large apple tree, waving at the camera. His eyes closed again, his mind racing. The warm summer breeze blew across his face. His brothers and sisters ran throughout the yard as the laughter of children permeated the air. His grandmother held his hand as she guided him to the apple tree, a ladder resting against the trunk. She grabbed the ladder and propped it under the branches, motioning for him to come near. “It’s ok, it’s your turn now,” she smiled. “Come and get me the biggest one.” There was a moment of hesitation as he waited for her to change her mind. Catching on to his dilemma, she assuredly nodded at him. A large smiled crossed his face as he raced to the ladder and grabbed hold. He struggled to stretch his legs enough to climb from step to step, but that didn’t dampen his spirits. The rungs felt massive in his tiny hands but he ascended all the same. After a climb that was longer than he expected, he was within reach of the lower branches. He stretched his arms out and wrapped both hands around a ripe red apple. He tugged, and it broke easily from the tree. He cradled the object close and gazed down at it. Its skin was smooth to the touch and it glistened in the summer sun. His grandmother carefully took it from him and washed it off with a wet rag. She handed it back to him and he bit into it, and juice flowed down his chin. His eyes opened as he heard a knock in his room. A caretaker slowly nudged her head in and asked if he was okay. The man responded that he was, and she retreated back the way she came, reminding him to call if he needed anything. There was only one thing he needed, and there was still time. He rustled weakly in his bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. The breathing tube that was wrapped around his head and held beneath his nostrils itched. He felt the stress in his body build up slowly from his pain and his muscled tensed. He fought to remain calm and concentrated on his slow and steady breathing. His head rolled in his pillow and found a cold soft section. His bedside night stand lay in his vision and he reached out to the photo he kept there. He picked it up and held it closer. A young couple in their twenties smiled back at him. The man was handsome and vibrant. The woman, beautiful with bright blue eyes and a smile full of life. He touched it softly, rubbing his fingers slowly down the glass. They sat side by side on the park bench in the crisp December night, and he felt the warmth coming off her body. Light snow fell to the earth around them and they cuddled together alone, enjoying the quiet. His anxiety and nervousness grew inside him, and she sensed it. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” he replied, lying. She peered at him a second longer and smiled before turning back and gazing at the trees. He slowly moved his hands toward his pocket to take hold of the small box he had put there earlier. He knew the time was now, and he prayed the outcome would be good. He looked over at her and called her name. She returned his stare without saying a word and watched him as he took a knee before her. She smiled and nodded before he could even ask the question. They opened the box together and he slid it on her finger. The ring size was too large and they laughed together as they noticed the error. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he spit out quickly, “They told me they sized it. They must not have done it.” He stuttered over his words, and felt anger start to rise up inside him. The jeweler’s carelessness will have ruined this moment. She gingerly placed her other hand around the over-sized ring on her finger and looked into his eyes, “I love it,” she said, “just the way it is.” He held her soft hand within his and arose to sit back on the bench, their bench. He kissed her softly and held her close, sharing her warmth. The old man studied the picture a few more moments, and he carefully placed it back on his night stand. Several minutes must have passed as he noticed the sun setting slowly outside. He reminded himself that there was still time, she will be here. His arms grew cold and he pushed his help button. A few moments later, his caretaker entered and asked him what he needed. The old man requested a blanket, and she happily responded yes. She made for the door when he stopped her and asked for the extra blanket he kept in his room. She looked at him a moment, and with a knowing grin, retrieved it from his closet. The bright pink quilt was thrown over him and he immediately felt the warmth. The caretaker tucked it around him. She left, reminding him again to call if he needed anything. He agreed that he would and thanked her. The man took a deep breath with his nose. The old quilt still had the scent of his home. Pink was always her favorite color. He looked at her hands as her fingers tightened around the handle bars, her knuckles growing white. The street was empty and the autumn leaves fell gracefully to the ground around them. “Relax,” he told her, “I’ll help you.” “But I’m scared Dad!” she replied, her voice shaking. “It’s okay; everything is going to be fine,” he reassured her. Her little feet moved from the concrete to the pedals and he carefully pushed, holding onto the seat. Her tiny face was determined and she focused forward on the street ahead. She began to pedal and built up her speed. “Okay, I’m letting go,” he warned her. “Okay,” she answered, her fear gone. He watched as he released his grip and she sped off away from him. Her bright blond pigtails bounced behind her. The pink ribbon tied to the handle bars flapped in the wind. He laughed as she rode off, her legs pumping the bike forward. Her jubilant cries rang in his ears as she turned back to return to him. Her smile was broad across her face. She didn’t see the stick in the road. Her tire collided with it and she collapsed off the bike into the street. He ran to her and found her crying holding her scraped knee. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he told her as he hugged her tight. “I never want to ride that stupid bike again!” she shouted with tear stained cheeks. “You don’t mean that,” he said, wiping her face clean. “You want to know something?” “What?” she asked. “When I was learning to ride a bike, I fell down a lot. I mean, a LOT. I scraped my knees a whole bunch too.” She giggled at the thought of him falling down. “Really?” she asked through the tears. “Yeah, really, I’ll show you the scars when we get home.” “Okay Dad,” she said, and he took her small hand in his and helped her up. He felt warm and relaxed in his bed now with the quilt above. He knew it was late and time was running short. Another spasm of pain hit his body and he quietly groaned, hoping for it to pass soon. The pain continued until he could no longer tolerate it and he pressed for help. The caretaker came in quickly, sensing the urgency of the moment. He pleaded for her not to use the medication. She knew it made him sleepy, but she insisted. A rush of cold liquid entered his arm through his IV and his eyes closed. They were walking down an aisle, her hand around his arm as he escorted her forward. She was like an angel in the white flowing dress. The music from the organ was proud and bright. The rows of spectators watched them as they neared the altar, but he was only focusing on one face in the crowd. She sat up front, with a space open for him next to her and she smiled back as they neared, her blue eyes shining. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered to his side. “Really?” she asked through her tears. He covered her hand with his, “Really,” he answered. The room went dark and the scene changed. They were walking forward down an aisle, her hand on his arm as she guided him forward. A lone dark casket lay ahead holding what he loved most. His head was bowed and he struggled to cope with it all. His knees ached, his body was growing weak. “It’s going to be okay, Dad,” she whispered. He could not speak, his only response coming as a small nod. He opened his eyes and looked above. The white roof of his room was there to welcome him. The pain had subsided. His room was still and quiet. His breathing was growing slower, his body heavier. Was there still time? He knew it would all be over soon, but he fought to hold on. His mind drifted, and he struggled to focus as his vision faded. He began to feel lighter, his body no longer heavy. With each passing second he felt closer and closer, yet he still held on, continuing his breathing. His door burst open. A figure made its way directly to his bedside. He felt a hand slip inside his and another hand run its fingers through his silver hair. He looked up and saw the blue eyes that she had inherited from her mother and he felt peace. “Dad,” she said softly. He felt himself slip and the room around him fell away. As he took his last breath, a grin crossed his face as he saw the two sets of blue eyes, a mother and a daughter; the mother’s welcoming him to the beyond. There was no need for time.