34 Seconds (32 page)

We were somber as we walked back into the bedroom. There’d be plenty of time to cry together, but we knew we had to help move Will to the hospice bed Brian brought in the bedroom. Martha helped us make another bedroll, and we all lifted him up and, as quickly and quietly as we could, placed him over the flower sheets on the hospice bed.

Rebecca checked the sheets on their bed, looked at me and said, “Well, the bed is all set, with 9 pads, clean warm sheets, and no one to sleep in it.”

I looked down at the bed and sighed. “We’ll sleep in it. And hey, we can even pee in it if we need to.” She laughed, and we hugged again. Rebecca and I were bonding. She grabbed my hand and pulled me down on the bed, where we both lay with our heads at the foot of the bed; exactly where we’d fought Will not to lay for what seemed like hours.

Brian and Martha were in the kitchen. Will was breathing. Long but slow breaths. He’d inhale deeply for longer than I was sure I could inhale, then he’d make no sound exhaling. There were times I wasn’t even sure he was exhaling.

Rebecca and had I started to drift to sleep when Martha popped her head in. She smiled, then walked over to Will where she started working again checking vitals, listening for longer than normal at his breathing and heart rate. She whispered to us, “He’s not here right now.” And then she came to sit on the bed next to where we were laying. Still whispering, she said to us while holding onto our hands, “I’d like to talk away from him normally, but he’s not with us right now. There will be stages of death you will watch him take. He may not respond to you again, but he may. He may get up again, exert all of his energy, and fall again. Or he may open his eyes and look at you, or he may squeeze your hand. There’s no way of knowing. And there’s really no way of knowing if what I believe is true, but I’m sure with the morphine he just had and the exertion of energy he’s put in this night, he’s at least unconscious if not visiting elsewhere. Now, I can’t get into religion with you, but I think no matter what you believe, we go in and out, here and there, wherever it might be, until our body is done and fully shuts down. Maybe he’s visiting a light, maybe he’s saying hello to loved ones, maybe somewhere in our minds we know to come back every now and then to be with the ones we love. The ones we’ll be leaving behind. You might see that. But his time is near, my dears. He won’t be with us much longer now. I’m very sorry I can’t say more to comfort you. I hope you can care for yourselves, care for one another, and remember what you are doing here is to see him to wherever he is going.”

She didn’t say another word, just looked at us. Both of our faces were covered in silent tears constantly flowing. Martha got up, retrieved a tissue box from the other side of the room and kissed the tops of our heads before she walked out. After a few moments, I could hear her talking to Brian, but Rebecca and I never saw her again. That woman was tossed into our lives, said some profound things to us, kissed our heads, and walked right back out of our lives. Her words would always be with me, and I think I would remember them if I were ever with a loved one during a similar kind of journey.

Rebecca and I lay on the bed together holding hands, crying in silence. At 7am, I sent Liza a text message, “It was a rough night.”

She replied, “Should I come?”

“Yes, you should come soon. Please call Dad.”

Liza showed up within twenty minutes. She hugged us and told us she’d be around all day if we needed her. She brought me a cup of coffee and Rebecca a cup of green tea from the 7-11 down the street.

“Your dad says he’d rather remember Will the way he was, not the way he is now.”

I think I was the only one who saw the irony in his choice of words since Dad didn’t really like Will when we were together, but I figured they’d developed some kind of friendship or tolerance over the years living together in the same little town. I also thought maybe carrying Will in the blanket may have been a bit traumatic for my father. It certainly wasn’t easy for any of us. Including Will.

“I didn’t think he’d want to be here. I just wanted him to know.” I hugged Liza and cried again.

The house filled over the next hour with friends. People brought food into the bedroom, and people stopped in to give Rebecca and me hugs and to say hello. The town was on death watch. No one spoke to Will. I don’t even remember anyone else looking at him. Rebecca and I wouldn’t leave his side. Liza and Brian came in together after a few hours, looking like they’d had a long talk together.

“We’re going to stay in here with Will, girls, and we want you to go take a break.” Liza said so timidly I felt she was asking permission.

“I’m not leaving him,” I said firmly. “But you can go get my phone, I’d like to put some music on and maybe check my messages. It’s in the guest room.”

I didn’t move an inch or look at anyone, but I saw Brian slink out of the room. Liza sighed and left, and Rebecca looked at me, took my hand, and said, “I appreciate you being here. I think I might take them up on their offer and take a shower.”

“Oh, honey, it’s fine. I’m okay. They don’t need to stay in here. I’ll stay, and Will is…Will is fine.” How could I say Will was fine? Did I mean Will was dying just the way he should be? Will was not trying to walk across the room, and hey, look it had been hours since he’d even tried to pee, in the bed or not. I just smiled. “Why don’t you go get something to eat and take a shower? Maybe I’ll grab a sandwich after you take care of yourself. Maybe I’ll try to nap for a bit.”

Rebecca stood at the side of Will’s hospice bed, stroked his thin skin a moment and walked out of the room. Liza passed her on the way in with my cell phone, a bottle of water, and sandwich for me.

I took the bottle of water from her hand and nodded toward the end table Will had pushed over several hours ago. Looking at it, I remembered it was the last time I had eaten, and none of us finished our meal. It all seemed so long ago. We’d all been through a rough night, and I couldn’t help but think we’d all grown a lot too.

I looked at the clock as Liza found a home for the sandwich she knew I didn’t intend on eating any time soon. The epoch clock was the only one I could see while watching Will, and it said 1402109182. I hadn’t a clue what all those numbers meant. Liza quietly left the room, leaving me alone with Will, my thoughts, and a clock that couldn’t communicate with the likes of me. The silence was deafening. Will would take those long deep breaths, inhaling and wheezing, and then he’d grow silent. I started counting the seconds. One…two…three…four…five…my phone was in my hand. I opened the bright pink cover and saw it was 2:47pm. Saturday, 2:47pm. I found the Pandora app on my phone and played my
Singer Songwriter
station. It was a mix of music from the 60s and 70s. Music Will and I used to listen to together. Usually when I started the station, it started with a simple folk song. I laid on the bed, tears streaming down my face. Several seconds had gone by again before I realized I was counting the seconds again between Will’s breaths.

Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…Eleven…Twelve…Thirteen…Fourteen…Fifteen…

Sixteen…Seventeen. Inhale

I found lack of sound and the counting relaxing, and I was able to lie on Will and Rebecca’s bed looking across the space to Will breathing in his hospice bed. I remembered the conversation we had with Martha earlier; another thing that seemed lifetimes ago. Since getting Will into the hospice bed in his bedroom, he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t struggled to get up to go to the bathroom, his sheets were dry, and he hadn’t opened his eyes at all. For the last several hours his mouth had been wide open and dry. The thought got me up looking for Vaseline or something to soften his dry lips. I found a tube of lip balm on the bathroom counter and went to his side, sitting up on my knees on the floor next to the bed.

“Will?” my voice cracked. “Your lips are very dry. I’m sorry we didn’t notice before. But I’m going to put this on your lips.” I couldn’t stop the crying while touching his lips. “I’m so sorry, Will, I’m so sorry.” I was not even sure what for, but God, my heart was breaking. Yet I couldn’t feel a thing. Not a thing. Maybe it was emotion overload, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what else to say, and the music coming from my phone didn’t allow room for me to speak. The song from the little speaker seemed to fill the room, leaving no space for thought, movement, or motion. Except, I saw it! Will’s little finger moved. It lifted ever so slightly
.
Paul Simon
played over Pandora Radio and brought Will back to me, to his home, to this world, even if only for a moment. He flickered here and then left again. I sat there holding his hand, singing the song as hard as my cracked tear-filled voice could. And when the song ended, I began counting again.

Inhale

Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…Eleven…Twelve…Thirteen…Fourteen…Fifteen…

Sixteen…Seventeen...Eighteen…Nineteen…Twenty…Twenty-One. Wheeze, inhale.

The moments between his breaths were getting longer. His mouth hadn’t moved at all, it was still wide open, but not as dry as before. Staring at his hand, I willed it to move again, and I began to think I had imagined it, but I was certain he’d moved. Maybe I was dreaming, but no matter what, I would believe I saw it. I just wished I had felt it too, but my hand was on his lips, trying to bring him comfort. I knew I was right. I had to be right. He’d moved. Maybe he was responding to my touch. Maybe he was responding to the moisture on his lips, but I liked to believe he was responding to a song that meant a lot to us in our relationship so long ago. He was letting me know he was still there and not ready to give up just yet. Or ready to leave maybe, because there was no fight really, the giving up had already taken place. I heard other artists we had enjoyed together so long ago playing on the radio. James Taylor, John Denver, Carole King, Jim Croce all filled the sad space through my phone.
I started talking to him. I couldn’t lay back down. He was here, and I had to feel him again.

“Will. Will, if you’re still here…” I could no longer keep my voice from cracking when I spoke. “I’m glad you came back. I know you did. I just know it. Thank you. Thank you for coming back. For giving me a chance to see you again. Oh, goodness. Thank you, Will, for even asking me to be here. For everything, for telling my dad, for working this out with Chris, for needing me to begin with. For all those years of friendship and true love. That’s what we had, true love. The kind of love that didn’t need nurturing, building, coddling. We had that. It just was. It was free. It was pure, and it’s what I long for again. I’m sorry for all of those years I’ve missed. I’m sorry we both gave up. I wish you hadn’t been so selfless and let me decide my own fate, my own future.” I took a deep breath and realized this was it. Emotional overload was coming to a head, and I was getting it all out. I was angry. Pissed off. At God, at Will, and myself. Maybe even at Chris because he wasn’t everything I’d dreamed of. I was hurt. I was losing not only a lover I’d never stopped loving, but also my best friend. The one person I could call night or day and empty my heart to, dump everything that lay on my shoulders, and cry or laugh until my face hurt. I put my head down on the thin mattress, leaving my hands on his arms. Music was still pouring out of Pandora. Music we’d fallen in love with, and the music that became the soundtrack of our love together. Emotions filled the air.

One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…Eleven…Twelve…Thirteen…Fourteen…Fifteen…Sixteen…Seventeen...Eighteen…Nineteen…Twenty…Twenty-One…Twenty-Two…Twenty-Three…Twenty-Four…Twenty-Five…I had taken three breaths in the time Will took his one long inhale and slowly, silently, let it out.

“I could probably go on forever, Will. Thank you. But,” it took me one…two…three seconds to find my voice again and stop the sobs from overwhelming my speech. “But you don’t have forever. So I think I need to say a few things before forever comes for us.” I sobbed again, took three more seconds to find my voice and began again. “We’ll be okay, Will. Rebecca will be okay. You picked a good one there. She really loves you. She’s hurting, but she’s also brave. She’s amazing. I’m not sure I could have ever walked into this knowingly. She did. But she’ll be okay, too. I’ll be okay. I have two beautiful children, Will. You saw them. I miss them so much. It’s so surreal to think of my life in Colorado. With my children, with Chris…my family. I feel like I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now. Here, with you. I can’t even begin to imagine the emotions I will go through once I drive away from here, unable to call you to keep me awake, to laugh at the random chickens I see on the side of the road in West Virginia.” I paused to allow more tears to surface. “I wish you could laugh with me. Chickens on the road in West Virginia. Who else is going to ever get that? It was just you and me on that road trip.” I couldn’t control the tears anymore. I lifted my head more, looked at Will’s open mouth, moved my eye up to his closed eyelids, and watched. I was hoping to see movement, recognition, something I might see if he were sleeping and dreaming.

“Do you remember that, Will? How in God’s green Earth did we get your Volkswagen up and down those West Virginia Mountains? What the hell were we thinking? This is a great idea! Let’s drive to bumfuck West Virginia just to see what’s it’s like out there, have lunch, and drive back! We were lucky we didn’t have to wait for my dad to drive seven hours to rescue us! Oh, man! That just reminds me of all the stupid shit my kids are going to do – and get away with! Hmph.” Silence took over me again. Will inhaled.

One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…Eleven…Twelve…Thirteen…Fourteen…Fifteen…Sixteen…Seventeen...Eighteen…Nineteen…Twenty…Twenty-One… Twenty-Two…Twenty-Three…Twenty-Four…Twenty-Five…Twenty-Six…Twenty-Seven…Twenty-Eight. Wheeze. The death rattle. Wasn’t that what someone had said the day before? Had it just been the day before? I was so tired. Saturday. 3:24pm, 1402111461.

John Lennon was playing from my phone. “Will, I guess I just need to say we all love you. I love you. Rebecca loves you. Brian loves you. The people in this town all love you. I don’t even know who is here, but I know people have been coming by all day. I think they want to show you respect, so they haven’t been coming in here, but they love you. They also want Rebecca and me to know they are here for us. We will all be alright. We will. We will miss you so much, but we’ll be alright. We’ll move forward. We’ll think of you each and every day, maybe even every second of every day, but, Will? You can let go.” I said it. I knew I had to. I wasn’t sure what Will needed to hear. Or if he was even listening, but I was done talking. I gave him permission to let go, but all I was really saying was to myself – he could let go.