Hunting wolves

(a light they can’t touch)

The nurse quietly put away her logbooks. She watched one more time, the teen aged girl approach her grandfather. Sometimes you had to stare at beauty and death with one lens, in the same breath, and this was often the privilege of her job. The girl was bold and the patient was gentle.

Girl: The moon is out large tonight, Pawpaw.

Grandpa: You’re kind to tell me, sweet sister.

Girl: Why do you call me that? You know I’m one of your daughter’s daughters.

Grandpa: And my Father’s daughter.

Girl: Do you ever stop thinking about Him? Even for five minutes?

Grandpa: Not him, not even for five minutes, nor His wonderful reflective Son.

Girl: Not even now, when death has come to see you?

Grandpa: Death is no foe, girl. He is an onlooker, as you say. A servant.

Girl: How do you stay strong, when you are so very weak?

Grandpa: Because I have seen it.

Girl: What have you seen, Pawpaw?

Grandpa: The promise.

Girl: Which promise this time?

Grandpa: Can you turn off that light? It’s a little bright.

(she goes over, douses one light)

Girl: So which promise?

Grandpa: (coughing gently, then a little more aggressively, finally re-catching his breath) The angels never got me. Not the high ones. Not the low ones.

Girl: But you said you saw two this morning.

Grandpa: Yes, those. But they've come to carry me home. After I’m done saying my farewells.

Girl: But you said they’ll never get you.

Grandpa: Only to take me to Him. But never away. His bands of love were ever around me.

Girl: You’re a poet to the end.

Grandpa: And the demons too. How they frighten a soul. But His love was always too high?

Girl: Too high?

Grandpa: Too high a tower! A retreat for the soul.

Girl: But are you really ready to leave us?

Grandpa: You’re never happy to leave any one, my love. (he coughs again) But the future is here.

Girl: The future?

Grandpa: His servant also. It has come as a transport.

Girl: You speak of it like it were a person.

Grandpa: They all are, in some way. He created them.

Girl: Pawpaw, you’re too much. What will heaven do with you?

Grandpa: It will keep me, dear one. I will be more at rest there than you can imagine. And stronger than you have ever known me. So shed your tears when you can’t help it. But you hold on to them when you can.

Girl: Can’t you leave us some of your strength? Before you go.

Grandpa: That’s what I’m doing, love. My last assignment.

Girl: I don’t feel strong.

Grandpa: (reaching out to her) The sword never got me either.

Girl: (laughing and wiping her eyes) You were never even in a war, Pawpaw.

Grandpa: Oh, but I was, sweet one. We all are.

(The nurse leaned in a little, from her spot. Very interested, but not wanting to break their privacy.

Girl: I don’t care for war.

Grandpa: No, you’re a good girl. And you shouldn’t. But doesn’t mean it doesn’t hunger for you. There are wolves out there, daughter. But . . . (he begins coughing and having serious trouble breathing)

Girl: Do you want me to get the nurse.

Grandpa: No, I suspect she’s somewhere close enough. She likes to watch and to listen.

(the nurse grabs her chest, and covers her mouth, trying not to give away her proximity)

Grandpa: As I was saying, even the wolves can’t steal you.

Girl: But Pawpaw, it isn’t true. People, even babies, have been taken by wolves plenty of times. That’s why they hunt them wherever they’re found.

Grandpa: Well that’s not the only reason they hunt them. But a different point all together. Yes, you are right. The wolves come. But they haven’t gotten you. And even if they did, they can’t touch your soul.

Girl: But soul, schmoul! What you talk about Pawpaw, who can understand it? What’s the difference if it doesn’t get my soul, but it gets everything else?

Grandpa: All the difference, blessed child. All the difference in the world. Your soul is your . . .

(and then it all happened)

The lights on the machines started flashing even before his eyes rapidly closed. The girl put her hand on his cheek. His eyes sort of bugged out. But then went calm again. He made fists and gripped her hands hard. But then he was calm . Medics, and the nurse, invaded the room, told her she’d have to leave. But not before the man got his final words in. He held up his arms, even tried to sit up. They gave him a little space.

Grandpa: I am convinced, dear Lizzie, that no power around us can cut through the cords of His care for your soul.

(and with that, he lay down, and didn’t open those eyes again)

The nurse broke away from the pack and went to Lizzie. Both had tears in their eyes. Both held each other for a moment.

“Do you think there are angels?”, asked the girl.

“I think there’s someone strong and kind in heaven,” said the nurse.

“How do you know?” asked Lizzie.

“Because,” said the caregiver, “it was shining all out of that man. How could we help but to see it?”

“But I don’t see it” said the girl. “I can’t see anything except the sadness.”

(A second later the lights flickered on and off, first in their room, and then throughout the whole hospital. When power was re-established, the monitor, which tracked earthly heart beats, was only singing a one note tune.)

The room became quiet. The staff did those things they always do, when a soul has left the building.

“Well that was something,” said the nurse. “As if we needed further evidence.”

The grandfather’s body lay motionless now. Birds could be heard, from windows far away.

“I did,” said the girl. “And I can feel him now.”

“Who sweetie?”, asked the nurse.

“My grandfather. He says don’t fear the wolves. My soul is a light they can not touch.”