Cahoots & Sadness

The white – gleaming white – walls surround me and that awful smell is coming from every direction, every crevice, and every possible space. My nose kept taking it in and my stomach kept churning. I was trapped between those walls and the smell knew it. That is why it continued to haunt me; it knew I hated it and everything that was associated with it. And then there was that black clock in cahoots with the gleaming white wall. Never ceasing. Endless ticking. That noise racked my brain. Tick…tick…tick. And the clock knew it. I hated that room and I hated that place. The only thing that kept me there was what lay before me.

I stare out the window hoping to find some answers or at least something beautiful to reassure me that there still was some of it left in this life. An oppressive gray smoke billowing out from a tall single stack greeted my eyes. The gray smoke met the gray sky and eventually it disappeared. Although I knew its invisible ugliness lingered and lurked about. Unattractive buildings surrounded the tall single stack and the grayness of the day encompassed all that I could see out of the eye of the gleaming white wall.

I feel wetness and I look down towards my hands. They tremble a bit, but are still useful as they hold the crumpled, used tissues. Those thin layers have managed to capture all of my emotions of the morning. All that I experienced and all that I felt will be forever a secret in their folds and purposeful attempts to wipe away what flowed from me. They know. They understand.

People begin to leave while others begin to come. I, however, continue to stand there unable and not wanting to move. I stand, silently, and stare directly in front of me. My eyes are greeted by more grayness, but this time it is sadness it sees. The body, lifeless, lays in the bed all small, frail and white with its face contorted and mouth wide open. I shut my eyes, but the image of the face continues to be as clear as if I were looking at a picture.

I remain standing there even though the others have all left. I watch as Death’s helpers do this and do that to a body they never knew. I continue to look at the face. The more I try to recognize the man I love so much the more I cannot find him. Didn’t Death know? I was his favorite; the one he loved and I loved back so much. Death probably knew, but didn’t care. How cruel.

The constant ticking interrupts my last moments together with him as I raise my eyes and give it the demanded attention it wants. I look through the glass, at the hands, and I realize, shockingly, time has passed. I remember looking to the black round frame on the gleaming white wall when he drew his last breath --- 5:26. Everything stopped for me, but the ticking continued. It didn’t care. It continued going around because it knew no end or beginning. It too was cruel.

I began to move wanting to escape from such cruelties that exist and from the entrapments of such white walls, nauseating smells and constant ticking of the hands. I really did hate them and this place, but I mostly hated the fact that I was there and it was him who would no longer be anywhere. Time didn’t stop and Death didn’t care. It just took and continued to move on. I turn to take one last look and then I walk out the door.

Dedicated to my Papa