“Oh, I’m sorry,” Grandpa said. He lowered his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t know there was someone else in here.”
“It’s okay. I’m just waiting.” Was the only reply.
The semiprivate hospital room contained two beds. The one by the window was empty. The other provided comfort for the precious lady with whom Grandpa spent the last 65 years. Sadly, this bed would also be the last place on earth she would be alive.
Only moments after Grandpa peeked around the privacy curtain and saw the ‘just waiting’ man at the window, he turned back to her bedside and again took her hand.
He’d held her hand more times than he could remember. On their first date when his was a little sweaty. At the altar when she looked into his hopeful eyes.
“Of course, I do, sweetie.” She’d said in her western Pennsylvania chime. Promising to spend the rest of her life with him. At their 50th wedding anniversary a few years back surrounded by all their children. Today.
Today, he held it tighter than usual. He watched her chest faintly rise and fall as it did for several days now. He sat like a soldier at her bedside. Rarely surrendering his grip.
Her chest fell and didn’t rise again. In one swift and timeless moment, she was gone.
Grandpa loosened his grip. There’s no way of knowing what he was thinking. No way of visualizing what must’ve been whirling around inside his mind. He just wasn’t ready to let her go.
Eventually he did. The muscles in his hand fought hard against the signals from his brain to release his grip. The yearning in his heart to keep holding on to hers. Grandpa stood up and just looked at her face. He knew it better than his own. Somehow, he finally found the strength to look away. He stepped around the curtain and couldn’t believe what he saw. The window offered only its daylight, washing the room in pale yellow and white.
The man who was standing there a few seconds ago was gone. He was simply no longer there. There was no way the man could have left the room without passing by. There were other family members outside the door. Surely, they would’ve seen him.
“Melissa, did you see anyone come out of your Grandma’s room just now?” Grandpa asked. He thumbed his earlobe like he always did.
“No sir.” Melissa said. She held in a chuckle as she caught herself thumbing her own earlobe. “Rob and I have been sitting right here. We haven’t seen anyone.” She leaned back in her chair and continued flipping magazine pages. Innocently unaware her grandmother just died.
Grandpa checked the room again. He peeked into the little bathroom, looked around the room once more. He would have noticed the man leaving. Grandpa noticed everything. Yet, this time, he did not.
Nor did anyone else…
Read the rest of the story in Some Perfect Tomorrow.