There is no end ( my first TRAGEDY story- purely fiction) if Shakespeare can do it so can I ) I am not sure what just happened but I am looking down from just feet above at my lifeless body below, as if sleeping peacefully. I remember going to sleep feeling like my stomach was bothering me. My face is pale as I lay on my sofa for the last time. The television is still on, in life and now death, important to me. The door opens and my son Josh comes in like every day and puts his cooler on the floor and his ice packs in the freezer. This day he stops to talk to me like we did every day. Sometimes people live together in the same house and only need small talk to be happy. He and I both men, our small talks are deep. Dad are you going to wake up yet, you were asleep this morning when I left for work ? He reaches to gently shake me and I see his hand start to tremble and he says Dad, I need you to wake up now, I am worried about you .Although he started to realize this was not good his hand touched my cheek and he jumped back. The next thing he did, while shaking like never before, was to reach for the home phone. 9 1 1, my father has died her at home.I just touched him and he is cold, dead cold.. The operator said that the police would be there in three minutes and he could wait outside for them to arrive. This time, a big policeman. entered and came to the side of the sofa as he reached down and felt for a pulse, there was none. Then he turned to Josh who was now sobbing but trying to be stoic. Something like this stops you in your tracks. He calls Lucas, his brother, with the bad news. They grew up very close to each other. The officer said The medical people will be here in a few minutes, I have sent them a code telling them your loved one is gone. They will take him to the undertaker to care for his body. When we leave in thirty minutes you are free to stay or lock the house and go be with family. I need your cell phone number to keep you informed later today. I am sorry for your loss. Finally the two men come in with a stretched, put me in a bag, zipped it up and as Josh watches in great mourning, they take me out. The ambulance drives away slowly down the street, a silent message that there was no hurry to get where they were going with a passenger placed in the back. It is a sight no good neighbor ever wants to witness. I am here looking down at my son but not hovering in the air like an apparition, no, just present. He goes to his room and takes his phone charger, going on ? The answer shocked her because other brother in laws had died lately and now her ex husband . She could tell by his voice that he was very upset and she asked him to meet at Lukes house. They all meet there including my oldest son, Alex, sitting around shaking their heads and wondering what had just happened today. The cell phone in his pocket, Josh rushes to answer it, the police officer calling to say It looks like he had a heart attack during the night and you did not notice until this afternoon like you said. Call us or the funeral director for further information. Thank You. They had a picture of me and talked about the past and let their tears flow. My attention suddenly was across the street at a house I lived in once. There was my father sitting on the front cement steps smoking an unfiltered cigarette while brother Jamie rode his bike with training wheels still on it. I move down the hall to the front apartment door and as it opens I see that little living room as it always was. The black and white TV to the right and the sofa on the left side. I enter the long kitchen and there is my mother at the ironing board, sprinkling the curtain, with distilled water from a glass bottle. The next room to the right is my bedroom where I now see me sitting at a desk.I am there with my crystal radio kit that so captivated my mind back then. There is my brother Gary sitting on the double bed we shared all of our early years wearing his favorite Davy Crockett coonskin cap. The house still smelled of toll house cookies and was warm and loving, just as I imagined it. Now I am looking down the hallways at the High school but the place is empty. Maybe only happy memories remain in the end. I now realize I am in a suspended state of here but not there with them anymore. Nothing pulls me up or down right now just this ever changing presence and awareness. There are no bright lights or burning fires at my feet. I am me but I have no body anymore. My oldest son, Alex, takes over all the tasks that must be done. He and I always had to mop up messes left by other members of our family. I designated him as the executor of my will so he had the right and duty to me to lead now. There would be no visiting hours, just a gathering at the same place my Mother and brother were celebrated. My presence moves from place to place always looking at my boys, morning, not able to eat and in a state of shock.I can hear them all agree when proclaiming their love for me. They laugh loudly in between bursts of deep sobbing as they recall my humor and many pranks. They all were the subject of endless tricks. The morning of the final service was sunny but cold. The wind blew but calmed down just as every gathered. The same undertaker set up everything like Mothers a few years earlier. A picture of me, next to a woodpile, smiling proudly was blown up and on a presenting table. There were folding chairs for any elderly family members to sit on. Everything was set and I notice that my favorite plant I saved for five years and kept alive after Mother died is front and center by my picture. A scented geranium with a pungent odor. The boys knew I cherished it as a living tribute to her and it needed to be there too. There was a moment coming for them all to remember. The serviced commenced with a few words of praise from each of my sons. I watched with love in me, this presence, as they choked back tears. The oldest then recited the twenty third psalms in my honor because I told him it opens the doors to heaven. It moves every person that listens closely to it. He read it with a strong voice, every word spoken clearly and with passion. This is his tribute to a man he admired and now honored. The living had gather behind and next to the chairs as my flag draped casket sat there quietly. There was not a breeze just the sounds of people crying, sobbing and mourning openly. The faces all look at the flag and flowers as the words carry over the air to their ears. There are few occasions when all family and friends gather like this but for weddings and funerals. I notice who is here at this final hour. There in the front are my two maternal aunts, Catherine and Charlotte, both seated and sitting erect. Then I see my fathers sister with her son and daughter plus two cousins from that side of the family. There is something in my French heritage that requires all to cherish the living and honor the dead. Later they will all meet for a colation at a local eatery to reminisce and discuss living things. There are some I am pleased to know came here today from near and far. The guys with Billy like Greg, Stevie, big John and Jeremy all neat and a group of powerful friends. My dear friend Anne, from Maine, sat in the front row too. I used to tell her that even if her organ music had an error now and then not to worry. I could see the Angels outside the church looking through the stained glass windows smiling and softly swaying on a cloud. I believed it and always will for a person like her devoted to her faith. a place in the choir waits for her. I gaze around and see little Sandra has come up from Florida as she stands with Doreen, two of my subjects in a book. There is Betty, Jeanne with Joe, Janet and Jayne all looking sad but composed. I now see old high school friends old and bent over standing in the rear. There are three soldiers standing there next to the casket wearing highly polished boots and sharp uniforms. A veteran is honored most by those allowed the priviledge to honor the passing. The living are not aware that the dearly departed are present too. I first see Mother next to Dad both staring and smiling at the grandchildren they never new. My brother Gary is with them dressed in cord de roys and a matching jacket with big mutton chops on his cheeks. I have longed a lifetime to see him again smiling. There is my uncle Mederic dressed in a bright white shirt,sleeves partly rolled up as usual. There are many more of the gone but not forgotten. I know their names still passed over the lips of their living friends and relatives which drew them here now. The living all wept openly and with good cause but the dead were calm, happy and content. The difference is noticeable because even now I am like them and one of them. This presence is a way to be here but to see all within your view. The service ends with a volley of loud gunfire, music to the ears of veterans and a signal to the guards at the Pearly Gates a good one is coming. The noise startles everyone, the living and those no longer, as the end is announced and a few place flowers on the caskets. The tears are most heavy at this point and as my little granddaughter places her rose she blurts out I love you Grandfather, I miss you, we love you always. What a public speaker to bring everyone to tears like this. I can influence nothing with the living but I gently blow at my Mothers geranium and as the leaves turn and the smell waifs into the air I see all eyes turned to it. How could this be they wonder. The knowing ones in the flock nod there heads and slowly move away to continue living another day. That is what life is to be part of it and become part of the memories of others. My days are over in that former life but I now sit on the banks of a pond in Douglas that I always loved with all my heart. When everything else means nothing I now gaze at the sky, trees, birds and listen to the wind. Those are still my favorite things even now and when I am called to be with a loved one again, at their end, I will be in the front row. The beauty is I see all my living loved ones still each day but I rest in peace in their minds and in mine.............................................Dennis F. King
Posted on: Sun, 30 Nov 2014 03:25:52 +0000
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