Sitting, he watches the rise and fall of Joe's chest as he labours to
breath. Each breathe rattling, sounding like it was to be his last.
The tears are all cried, there are none left. He sits, holding Joe’s
hand, wanting the contact so that he will know he is not facing
these last moments on his own. It was what Joe feared more
than anything, dying alone.
The room smells of death. He imagines it crouched in the corner,
patiently waiting in the dark. He shivers, wishing he could turn on
a light. But it is night, and the lights are dimmed so others can sleep.
Sounds are muffled, as if he is sitting in a room full of cotton batting.
It is going to be a long night. He gets comfortable.
Sitting, thinking, remembering. They had some good times. He
remembered the day they met. It was a hot sultry day in July.
Both sitting in the shade of a tree, they struck up a conversation.
The rest, as they say, is history, but what a history.
He smiles as he remembers.
The nurse makes her rounds, checking in to see how they are doing.
She smiles, a sad smile, knowing this is most likely the last night he
will be here. This is the death watch. She has seen it hundreds,
maybe thousands of times before. Heartbreaking.
Machines start to beep and flash. Nurses rush in, pushing
him aside in their haste to fix what is wrong. The doctor
is called. The room is suddenly bustling, noisy. He is just
a spectator in the game. But no, this is not right. Not the
way it should be. He says 'No', quietly. No one hears him.
He speaks louder. 'NO!'. "Not this way. Not this time. Let
Joe be. This is not what he would want. Please, let him go."
Everyone stops and stares. Then they look away. So determined
to keep him living, they had forgotten that dying was a part of
life. The doctor leaves instructions, the nurses make him comfortable
once again, and make sure the call button is within easy reach. Then
they are all gone. They are left, just the two of them again. In their
dark cocoon, quietly waiting for death. The grim reaper is closer,
the shadows are darker, the room smaller. It won't be long now.
But, Joe is not making that journey alone. It is a promise kept.
As the first faint stripe of pink shows on the horizon announcing
a new day, Joe breathes out, but doesn’t breathe in. It is over.
He is at peace. The call button is pressed. The nurses arrive and
take command. He walks outside, the birds are singing, the day is
beginning, but he sees none of it. Now, the tears flow freely.
But they are for him, not his friend, because now he has to face
death alone. There will be no one to hold his hand through that long dark night.
A contest entry
- International World AIDS Day 2008 by lordoftherings.
9000 points, ended January 24, 15 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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I see so much poetential of this short story becoming something more that it is at this point. You have the drama, the emotion and you draw the reader in.
What I found it lacked is descriptions! Now you may look and say I have a lot of discription in my story, which you do on an abstract level. The descrition I speak of is drawing me in more with detail description!
What color are the sheets, the hospital gown, the walls of the room?
How does death smell? (I know that after three hospital bouts and open heart suregery, the aroma of the anesthesia --a cool breeze that smells like spearmint -- is still present today in my life on a conscious level. I will be sitting here typing or doing something in my daily life and I can feel the sense of this cool speariment breeze filtering in my nostrils and right away I am taken back to my hopsital rooms. That is the power of the senses.
The smell of my grandmother's perfect seven-minute hard-boiled eggs as, with her withery, siney fingers, she breaks them open to reveal flacky sunshine yolks that match the morning as we sat at her chrome kitchen table.
I always find hospitals to have a cacophony atmosphere. Now there's a description. Imagine a band of toddlers just banging away aimlessly or five year-olds running through the house banging pots and pans. The beep beep beep of the heart monitar, a bedpan zings as it crashes to the floor, (Okay, maybe not a good one!) Combine the adjectives of a cacophony room and the reader will be drawn in more.
At the same time, I also knew I would get a piece of writing in this genre. I also know how hard it is to read down into the depths and pull out the descriptive word that would convey your emotions in the situation. Thank you for sharing this us in this contest.
Gregg
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Thank you. I do see what you mean about being more descriptive. You explained what you were saying clearly and I appreciate that. Many times someone will say that - and never explain just what they mean and what they are looking for. Thanks for the input.
Thank you for the bronze.
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Truly heartwrenching. There is so much truth and emotion in this story, one repeated all over the world so many times a day. Your last two lines are so strong. Well done and good luck in the contest.
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Okay...it has been a long time since a work of prose has brought me to tears but here I sit weeping like a lost child looking for her mother's hand.
I worked in a Nursing Home a few years ago. I could see death in the residents. One night, one of the residents on the first floor kept crying out. It seemed that n one of the nurses would attend to this 90ish year old woman. I did! When I entered the room, I knew...I "smelled it", felt the dark shadow's presence...needless to say, she died while I helped her clutch her rosary.
You zoomed me back to the past with this work. I have been melancholy all day. This just took me over the top! The ending is totally heart-wrenching!
Good Luck in the contest.
Much LOVE ♥
Renee
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This reminded me of the void that is left after someone you love dies, of the physical pain that is literally felt by the metaphoric gash that is left in your own soul. I have that same feeling of being here, "alone" someday...
This is just great writing!
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This is truly a most wonderful and touching piece of writing.It would be wrong to choose best bits and so for a poignant piece like this, a gentle sensetive and empathetic masterpiece of love for fellow man
I salute you
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This is really a nice tribute to all of us who survive as well as to all with whom we no longer share this world. Very touching Nemmy
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Well done. The supressed emotion coloured the whole poem for me. I like it.
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very nice
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you really hit me hard with this one. so poignant and beautifully expressed.
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