I can hear movement in my room but I no longer have the energy to be fully awake and alert. I know it is not the nurse because the step is heavier and I don't hear the little scuffing of her shoes. I feel as if someone is standing over my bed. I knew they would be looking at me, weighing how I was fairing. At my age you don't have any vanity left. I feel a hand slip in mine and I knew immediately that it was my son Henry. He was a frequent visitor to me.
I could feel his frail hand and it broke my heart. As I lay here in this bed, my son is fighting for his life. He has pancreatic cancer and over the last two months has taken a lot of hell from fighting it off. It breaks my heart that he suffers so and I am unable to be there when he needs me. It breaks my heart to know that it will not be long after I am gone that my son will also come home. He will never give up, like me he will fight to the end but it was never a war he ever had a chance at winning. For as much as he fights, the disease spreads just as strongly. I wish I could give him more time, I wish I could take his cancer with me to my death so he could have more years with his family.
Henry's wife Nancy is a godsend to me, she insisted that I come and live with them when Margret passed. I was uncomfortable with the idea but I didn't want to be alone either. All my children had moved out of Syracuse and there was no one there that could help me in my elder state. So I packed up my home of fifty plus years and moved myself down to Tampa to Live with Henry and Nancy and their two children.
Their eldest son Wyatt is a spit fire, he is fourteen now, but only four when I moved. We became very close but as he became a teenager, his attention turned towards the girls. But every night before he would go to sleep he would come to my room and tell me about his day and ask about mine. He was a very good friend to me. I enjoyed being able to be a friend instead of a parent. A true gift to a grandparent is being allowed to be their favorite and the good guy all the time. He pulled me out of my grief for my late wife and gave me reasons to look forward to things again.
Their second child and my granddaughter Willa who is now twelve, reminds me so much of Margret it was like getting to peak inside my wife's child brain. Willa and I are two peas in a pod, and just like her grandmother she is always doing something sweet and thoughtful for the people she cares about. Putting her own little heart out for the world to see. She was the sweetest child I had ever met and my darling girl. That little girl stole my heart at two years old and she's held it ever since. I enjoy watching both my grandkids grow.
However, watching my son Henry be a father was an absolute treasure. He was so patient and considerate and firm with love. He is the father I wanted to be for him and I am so proud of the man he has become. He is a respected attorney in the area, a very loving and doting husband to his wife, who is a nurse. They are the all American beautiful family. I know that my wife would have truly enjoyed her grandchildren and seeing Henry in this way. Henry has his mothers heart and my looks. He is the perfect mix of my stubborn hardworking ethics and Margret's gentile and thoughtful, patient heart. We truly created a special man, but all the credit goes to Margret, I'm embarrassed to admit.
I hear his breath hitch and I feel a lump in my own throat start. I wanted to sit up and tell him it was okay but I no longer was able to move. I was stuck in this sleep like state.
"Oh, Daddy, I hope your not suffering."
I'm not son. How are you today, I thought. I listen as he slides a chair over to sit next to the bed.
"I cant stand up long today. I'm just back from chemo. I feel as old as you are today dad. I know I have my good days and my bad days but, I know I'm going to die dad. I'm scared."
My son, oh my son. I wish I could speak to you, to tell you that you have nothing to be scared of because a man like him would be welcomed with open arms in heaven. I feel as he rests his damp head on my arm.
"I'm sick all the time dad. I don't want to feel anymore. Maybe I will just go with you daddy."
No son, you have to stay for as long as you can. Wyatt and Willa need their dad for as long as they can have you.
"I know, you would tell me to stop whining and pull yourself up by your boot straps. I try dad, I really try to be as tough as you."
Your stronger than I ever will be Henry, and your not whining. Was I so stern to you that you cant tell me how you feel? I'm sorry son, I'm sorry Henry, that I never listened. That I never said I love you to you every single day. You make me so proud.
"Okay, dad, I will be back to check on you in the morning. I have to make it to Wyatt's baseball game today, so I need a nap. I will bring the kids up with me tomorrow, they miss you and love you very much dad. Your so great to them, thank you daddy. Thank you for letting my children in. All I ever wanted was for you to be able to discover yourself again. You spent so many years in pain. It was really nice to see you happy and to have these last ten years together. I love you daddy, your a great father and the best grandpa. You even have the mug to prove it. Get some sleep dad."
I listen as he gets up from the chair and as he makes his way out of the room. I never had been an emotional man, but I was moved to the core. He thought I was a great father? Was he just saying that because I'm dying? I was away so much when he was little, then I drank to much as he was becoming a man. I missed so much. How can I be a great father? My poor son, he tries so hard. Please god, if anyone deserved a miracle it was my boy. My dying wish is for him to survive and live as long as I have. If a man as tainted as I can live this long, why should a good man die so young?
I drifted off in my mind, remembering my children as they aged, the nurses and doctors come in and begin Their daily assessment.
"His heart rate is slower, his blood pressure is low, his breathing is shallow. I think its time to call the family and let them know that we are removing the life support machines in the morning per request to their fathers medical planning."
I sigh to myself, this was it. Tomorrow I would die. The fear climbed from deep within but I pushed it back. Everyone dies, plenty of good men died in my own arms. I wouldn't cower in my last moments. It would be a dishonor. As the nurses do their daily routines to me I let myself drift back to when I first met my wife. Tomorrow we would finally be together again. That is what I would focus on. That is what would make this last day peaceful.
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