"Jack?" His voice cracks and he breaks into a fit of coughs.
"Yes Pops?" I knew what he was going to say before he said it.
"Do you want to hear a story?"
"Yes pops. I would love to hear a story." I always agreed to listen when he offered to tell me one of his stories And so he did. He told me one last story. He used his age, ruined voice like an old man's hands to pick the lock on his past.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Name?"
"Uh, James. James O'Donnell"
"And what is your relation to the patient?"
"He's my grandfather." The receptionist turns to her computer and types something in with her long acrylic nails. Her lips smack as she chews her gum noisily.
"Room 209, level 2." Her voice was a bored whine.
"Thank you." I walk towards the lift and press the button. It's sticky and I wipe my finger on the pants of my suit. The lift arrives and a nurse pushes an elderly lady in a wheelchair. The wheelchair squeaks on the linoleum floor and the old lady glares at me as she is wheeled past. I move forward and step into the lift, pushing the button marked 2. The lift starts to move upwards.
Today would be a bad day. I could feel it. Grandad's condition had been declining over the past two weeks. This didn't seem to bother my family though. They hated the old man. Said he was as mad as he was unfriendly. He had been that way as long as I had known him. I don't think he was always like that though. The years had been tough on him. Well, that's what I assumed at least. In all my visits to the hospital, he had never told me why he didn't like his family.
Despite this, I still knew more about him than almost anyone else. He had this one friend, however, just one, that had hung around him throughout his youth. Grandad would tell me stories of him, the nosey neighbour's kid, who would come and try to get grandad to play. Which he did, begrudgingly. After school though they lost touch. I remember grandad briefly telling me his friend visited him when grandad's first child was born, my dad. He was so happy for grandad, but before they could talk properly he said he had to leave. Grandad urged him to stay but he kept walking back to his car parked on the street. It was only as he walked back inside did he realise the glistening in his friend's eyes had been tears.
I marvel at this fact as the elevator doors open and I walk out onto level 2. Room 209 was on the left, a few doors up from the elevator. I cautiously knock and open the door as a weak, fragile voice answers, "come in."
"Hi pops." My grandpa looks at me with his small beady eyes. He does this every time I visit him.
"How are you going today?" I smile at him warmly and sit down next to his bed.
"Do I know you?" The dementia is getting worse. He would usually recognise me by now. My eyes start to glisten and I wipe my wet eyes with the palm of my hand. Grandpa wouldn't want me to cry for him.
"Yes pops it's James, your grandson. I was here last week, remember?" Suddenly his eyes light up and he smiles at me.
"James, yes, yes, I remember. How are you?"
"I'm good pops, really good." I reach for his hand and enclose it in mine. He clasps it in a weak grip. His hand is not as warm as it should be. The end is near. I can feel it, from the lack of warmth in his to the pale sickly tint of his thin wrinkly skin. This is not how I wanted grandad to go. Everyone should be here, all his family and friends ready to wish him well as he leaves this earth. But alas, life got in the way. The least I can do now is to be present with him now, in his final moments.
"Hey pops?" My voice breaks a little. Sometimes grandad can't even remember his son who visited him last week, but he can remember what he ate for breakfast 30 odd years ago. I put on a smile even though my heart aches for him. Happy and sad at the same time. Happy that I get to spend this time with him now, sad because my family should be here now to see him go. It will be soon, I can feel it. In a way it makes sense, I guess. The outsiders of the family, here, together, now.
"Yes, James?"
"I love you." I have never said that to him before. And he has never said it to me. But I feel now was a good time to say it. Grandad looks at me with a half shocked expression on his old whiskery face. Then he smiles.
"I love you t-"
