Penultimate Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
The old man lay on his deathbed, in a pale and lonely room, in a
pale and lonely hospital. It was snowing outside. Winter had come and brought
with it his end. It was only a matter of time now. He could feel it in his body
and bones, both aching and arthritic.
There was a deep and foreboding silence that came along with the
snow of winter. Everything was dampened. Everything was slower. The world was
calm. The wildlife was gone, hidden away. The Earth rested, locked in frozen
slumber. The bright white snow created the illusion of a mint and pristine
world. The barren shrubbery and missing wildlife cast an appropriate
association with death.
He had expected more. He wasn’t sure what though. Certainly not
some grandiose fanfare, but something. He thought death would be preceded with
some sort of harbinger. Maybe that was what the snow had been. The world was
dead. The world was at peace. Covered in bright white snow.
In that context, the bright
white of the snow was a perfectly fitting symbol. He didn’t know if he would
see a white light or not when the time came, but perhaps the snow was an
indication of things to come.
His son wasn’t there, but his grandson was. Time and tribulations
had pulled the family apart. The fact that his grandson was there was purely
accidental. Coincidentally, his grandson happened to be traveling nearby when
the attack occurred. Still, he was glad someone from the family was with him
and that he wasn’t alone. He hoped somehow he could hold on long enough to give
his son a chance to arrive.
The night continued. The minutes crept by. The hours seemed to
drag on and on, impossibly long. Perhaps his perception of time was the first
thing to go. The last seconds were an eternity. For that he supposed he should
be grateful. If life was going to end, if this was his last chance to have anything,
experience anything, if nothing else, he was getting a lot of it. Or at least
it seemed that way. Seconds were still seconds and there really weren’t any
extra. But he liked the feeling that he was getting more, getting a life in
those few seconds that was longer than all that had come before.
The old man wished things could have been different. He thought of
what he should have done or could have done. Would any of them have made a
difference? He didn’t know. Maybe somewhere another life had been lived where
he had done things right or at least done them better. He hoped that were true.
The old man tried to impart some wisdom. He had learned so much.
He wanted it to mean something, for it all to count in some grand way. He had
no time left; there would be no memories or philosophy to be written down. He
wanted his life to matter and wanted to make someone else understand. He wanted
something lasting, something better that would make up for all the mistakes
made. He had an audience of one. An audience of one would have to do.
He tried to tell his grandson all the things he knew, all the
things that a man should know, all the things that could make a life a better
thing than it really was.
“Life is waiting, but time slides by, faster. Always faster. You
wait and you watch it slip away with no ability to stop it. Grab it. Grab hold
and try. Or at least hold on as best you can. Let it take you for a ride.
I have always been waiting. Waiting for something more. Waiting
for something better. That never came. It never comes. You can’t wait. Waiting
will never make it come.
Don’t wait. Life is waiting. There is never a better time than
now. There is only one time. Now. The past and future are untouchable. To think
otherwise is folly. Do everything you can in every moment.
Love. Love freely. Love easily. Love perfectly. Forgive. Be at
peace and forgive all that you can. Find love and give love and fill the world
with love. Life is too cruel and too harsh and you will need all the love you
can get. Make sure you never forget that. Even when there is no love to be had,
make some. You’ll be glad you did. Alone and lonely is no way to live. Sorrow
and regrets are no way to live. Let them all go if you can.
I have lived and lived and lived. I have seen so many things. You
wouldn’t believe. I have been and not been. I have dreamed awake and slept
reality. I have traveled. Across lands and across times. I have done anything
and everything.
Do more than I have. I have done nothing. Do everything you can.
Please hear me. Hear me. Do you hear me? Do you see me? Please
tell me you hear me. Tell me something. Tell me you understand. Tell me you will
live a better life than me.”
The young man turned to look at his grandfather. His grandfather seemed
to be smiling. Maybe he finally found peace, thought the young man. The
previous few years had not been kind. Heart problems. The death of friends. The
death of loved ones. They had all hit him hard. The most recent stroke had hit
him worst of all. There wasn’t much left of the man he had been. There was just
a dying old man trapped in a bed. The grandson felt sorry for his grandfather.
It was sad. The things he didn’t know. The things he could never
know, never ask. His grandfather seemed like a wise and interesting man. He hadn’t
taken the time to find out or get to know him. He could have, but he was young
and self-absorbed like young people tend to be. He hadn’t been interested, but
at least he had realized he might someday be. He had told himself there would
always be time. He could always find these things out later. Except there wasn’t
always time. At least not here and now there wasn’t. Time had run out. Time had
expired. There was just an empty body where a man had been.
Outside the snow began again.
The grandson looked out the window and watched the falling snow.
He always loved the bright white snow. He was mesmerized by the serenity that
came with the peacefulness of it all.
His father would be there soon. He would wait. His father should
hear the news from him. His father would always regret that he wasn’t there in
the end, but maybe he would find some solace in the fact that his son was. The
grandson hoped that was true. He hoped that he had brought some comfort to his
grandfather as well.
Outside, the light reflecting from the streetlamps lit up the
fresh snow and made for a beautiful sight.
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