Cynthia spoke with Tucker every morning at
6:00. He called her right on the
dot. She thought maybe he watched the
time so he would not wake her before 6:00 and not a minute after so she would
not worry. Sleep seemed to elude him
after he woke up sometime in the night to empty his bladder. He used to turn on the television and watch
the Fox channel, but he saw no reason to do that anymore. He just waited for time to call Cynthia.
Now you should know, that I have put over a year into writing this. This is time I could have spent making things and selling them for real money. So here is the deal...I write, you read and I am now asking for monetary compensation so I can continue to write instead of working. If you like what you read and want more of it, there is a paypal button following this. I have given you choices on how much you enjoy my writing and they are all three a mere pittance so I leave it in your hands now. You will not receive anything, but I will receive money. Money will enable me to keep writing. No money will send me to the basement to sew.
Have a good day and thank you for reading Long Ago and Not Very Far Away
His hospice volunteer had come at some
point in time and seemed like a nice enough fellow. Chas something or other. Chas was short for Charles. Usually Charles was shortened to Chuck or
Charlie or something like that. Chas was
an unusual name for an unusual man. He
sure was a good cook and in a different time and place Tucker would have
reveled in the meals placed before him, but not now. Eating was pointless and the sooner Chas
agreed the better they would get along.
So Chas cooked and created and Tucker moved it around his plate until
Chas took his plate away. He had
researched this and knew that if he ate and kept his strength up, it would
prolong the dying process. He could see
no reason to do that. It was
hopeless. He would never be any better
and death was inevitable. He had thought
briefly about suicide, but he thought that through and knew that Cynthia would
be the one to find him. She was the only
one with a key and he could not put her through that. By the time he was comfortable enough with
Chas to think of suicide again, Margie has taken all the guns away. So he just quit eating.
So Cynthia came every morning and hospice
sent workers to bathe him and help him shave and do the many things that they
did. Cynthia went home in the afternoon
and Chas came by for several hours. He
and Cynthia had not met, but both asked about the other. He guessed that was just another form of
civility that was necessary to get through this ordeal. Friends drove down from Denver and one flew
in from California. One friend helped
him catalog his Japanese sword collection and mail it to a dealer in St. Louis.
The house was getting emptied out and Marge was banking money. He would need it when he needed more care.
Cynthia went home every evening when he
went to bed. It was just him and
Cleo. He began to discover that he had a
sensitive side he had not known existed.
Tears came easily. That was not
something he had ever done before, but now he noticed when the little Ford
pulled away and the brake light flickered at the corner, that he was very
sad. Sad and afraid. Afraid?
He had never been afraid in his life, but now he heard sounds and woke
up shaking. The second night this
happened he decided to tell Cynthia.
“Cyn, I know this is going to sound crazy,
but I am afraid of the dark. I get
really scared when you leave me.” He
looked at Cynthia so sadly that she could only reach for his hand and with a
tear in her own voice she comforted him.
“Tucker, this is not unusual at all. I have been studying this and it is very
normal. Let me talk to Marge and see
what we can do. I am pretty sure hospice
does not send people out at night. I
have the dogs and my geese and ducks that need me at home, so I can’t stay. Maybe you can come stay with me. Marge will be here this afternoon and we will
work this out. Right now I am going to
make you some tea and toss in a load of laundry.”
Tucker smiled at her and she smiled
back. She would be there for him. He knew that.
He did not know why. He had told
Anton several times about how she would wait when he wasn’t ready and never
scold him. She would pull weeds while he
talked on the phone. She would walk the
dog when he was tinkering in the garage.
Was it because she cared? He knew
she had other things to do so it wasn’t because she had time on her hands. She must care. He tried not to think about it. It confused him. She knew he was dying. No future there. Maybe she was just a good person. Who knew.
Marge listened as Cynthia and Tucker told
her about the fear Tucker felt when he was alone. Marge was not surprised. Fear and dying often went hand in hand. She was pleased that Cynthia would take
Tucker home at night and bring him back in the morning. That way he would still have the comfort of
his own home all day and hospice would take care of him there. She was pleased that Tucker felt comfortable
enough with Cynthia to sleep there. She
had never known him to spend a night anywhere except his own house. And she had certainly never seen the gentle
air about Tucker that now was always there.
Tucker had always been rather selfish, but now he was giving. Giving and kind. He said nice things for no reason. And it was not an act. His whole countenance was one of a caring
person. Must be the dying process.
So she returned to Denver, promising to
return in a week. She knew she was going
to need to fly to Florida and spend some time with her friend Jean, who was
dealing with health problems, but for now Tucker was her prime concern.
*****************************************************************
No comments:
Post a Comment