A final goodbye

We asked what bay you were in and a nurse escorted us to your bed. You looked different to how I remembered and it took me a moment to recognise it was you. Your shirt was unbuttoned revealing the scar down your chest from previous bypass surgery. Your breathing was laboured and your face looked swollen. Your eyes remained closed as we approached your bedside. Mum leant in and spoke softly to you announcing who we were. She went on to explain that we were in the hospital anyway for my bowel appointment and heard you were poorly so thought we’d drop in. You acknowledged us with a slight nod, you looked up at us through sleepy eyes, i think you tried a smile. I felt a surge of love for you right there and the welling of my tears took me by surprise. It wasn't even as if I was family or knew you that well. But you and your dear wife had always been there for me, always at the sidelines offering me words of encouragement and never forgetting a birthday. I would always bump into you tottering around town arm in arm, sometimes hand in hand. You'd greet me with a huge smile, ask me how I was doing and invite me for tea and biscuits at your house. Your wife would always assure me she was praying for me and I knew that she did without fail. After the initial recognition you appeared to drift off again. I glanced at mum, she had tears in her eyes too. I sat beside you on the chair and took your hand. It was warm and I felt your fingers embracing mine. I had never held your hand before but it just seemed right in that moment. The intimacy didn't feel staged or embarrassing, I just wanted you to know that someone was there and someone was loving you. I wanted you to know that I thought a great deal of you, that you were an extremely special person. I was very conscious of what you thought of me coming to see you. I often wondered how the elderly in the end stages of their lives felt about younger people. Did they begrudge the fact that we had youth on our sides, was it painful to see someone who still had years to live? I suppose we would all be in that position one day and seeing you lying there made me acutely aware of my own mortality. How would I feel when my final days came? Would i be fearful or would I accept my fate. Maybe when you reach a grand age you're just grateful that you were blessed with a long life. More than anything I didn't want you to feel scared, I just wanted you to feel peace. 

A nurse approached with a tray of steaming food; Jacket potato, meatballs and a pot of rice pudding. She woke you and attempted to prop you up with a pillow. You looked so weak, i didn't know how you were going to be able to eat. Mum and i switched places. “Lets help you out there a bit,” she said brightly beginning to cut the meatballs and scoop out the potato. It was painful watching you eat because I could see how hard you were trying; prodding the pieces of food with a new found determination. But slowly you managed it. You ate what you could, then you settled back down in bed, closing your eyes again, satisfied. 

It was time to leave you. Inside I didn't want to go because I knew this was most probably a final goodbye, I might never see you again. As I leant over to kiss your cheek I didn't want you to think I was saying goodbye because I didn't want to upset or scare you. My throat hurt from holding back the tears. As I walked away they began to fall. “Goodbye,” I whispered, my heart surging with love for this man I barely knew.