December 4, 1988
One morning as I traveled the back roads between Dallastown and Jacobus on the way to meet a friend for coffee, I listened to a favorite CD when the lyrics of one song caught my attention. I hit track #9 again to listen intently from the beginning. Prompted by the gifted song writer, vivid images filled my mind.
On a Sunday, just days from turning nineteen, I found myself in a place I did not wish to be...in a hospital wing filled with the smell of death. In a small room with a solitary bed laid my beloved stepdad, Jim. On his right, sat his mom, my grama. On his left, quietly sat my mom. I stood, awkwardly, near the foot of his bed. Silence gripped the room. Poisoned with cancer, we waited for death to take him forever captive.
I don't know why I felt I needed to be there that day. He was admitted on Friday because my mom and the visiting nurse could no longer care for Jim at our home. Even though unconscious it was obvious he was in severe pain. The cancer was having its way with his flesh. My mom, as skinny as a rail after three months of living in hell, needed a break. She and my grama took a walk outside. I promised to stay with Jim and let them know of any changes. As they left the room and headed for the clean sweet air, I stood there alone looking over a man who I loved so dearly. Slowly, I moved in closer. I wondered why was he hanging on like this? All the doctors couldn’t believe he was still living. Then I remembered a conversation I overheard right after he was diagnosed, three months earlier. He promised my mom he'd never leave her. I think he believed that. As did she.
Tears fell loosely over my cheeks as I gazed at his beautiful but sunken in face. His eyes opened but focused aimlessly on the ceiling tiles. Moving even closer I could see the grimace on his face caused by the pain that was ravaging his body. Holding on to keep his promise, silly man. I took his hand in mine and leaned close to his left ear. With everything I had, I whispered these words through constant sobbing, "Rest, please rest. I will take good care of mom, Kris and Nick. I promise you." I could almost feel him relax as if those were the words he needed to hear before embarking on the journey before him.
A few moments later, my mom and grama entered the room. They took their normal places on either side of him. I stood close to my mom. Then it began. His breathing became irregular. The tension in the room could be felt so clearly. His chest quickly rose tall as his eyes widened. Mom and grama stood up, knowing what was happening. Then his chest slowly fell, as his body exhaled for the last time. A peace came across his face and could be seen in his body as well. The excruciating pain was gone. But so was he.
After a brief moment of ear-piercing silence the room then filled with uncontrollable cries of agony. I've never seen my mom like that before. It’s a memory I wish I could erase. I don't remember much after that. But I do recall walking out of the hospital that afternoon, feeling as if we were abandoning Jim. It was early December and the sun was setting low in the semi-clouded sky. It was a stunning display of vivid colors: orange, purple, and blue. Standing still in the parking lot, I deeply took in the day’s last light and reflected on the beauty in the sky as a devastating sadness covered me like a wet blanket.
My mom, who had walked ahead of me, turned and asked what I was doing. I said, "Mom, Jim's painting the sky for you. Isn't it pretty?" She and my grama stopped and peered to the west. All three of us stood silently in the parking lot, watching the day come to an end through our tear-filled eyes and with shattered hearts.
Jim was a very talented artist - oils were his preference. He enjoyed painting sunsets and other nature scenes. His final masterpiece was spectacular.
It's funny how words from a song can spark such deep memories. The lyrics stated, "Love is watching someone die." Powerful words, and so true.
The musical artist I referred to was: Death Cab for Cutie; Album: Plans; Song: What Sarah Said
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