Hospice Memories (prose poem)

The call came in the middle of the night, the end was near and, I knew, the goodbye would be painful. My heart sunk like a pebble dropped into a stream as I rushed to his bedside. Too young to die, I silently cried inside. Too many dreams destroyed by cancer’s vengeance, and I was helpless to stop the death march for him. The dimly lighted room closed in on shallow breaths from his wasted body. Disease ravaged his youthful body like the rotting decay of old lumber. Helpless to end the pain, I gently touched his face.

Our paths crossed when he elected hospice and I was assigned to provide the care,
never dreaming how his strength for dying would linger with my soul for days afterward. We talked light-heartedly in the early days, he teased me with a request to bring pizza and beer, knowing his gut would retch. He listened to my empty words of advice as a child listens to his favorite teacher.

We sat in silence during his final hours as peaceful calm entered the room. A life of unfilled promise left a kaleidoscope of memories. His body drenched with sweat from pain’s torment, hollow eyes sunken, a gaunt façade, emaciated limbs lay motionless and angular at his side, the putrid odor of death from last breaths. Our eyes met and lingered with unspoken bonds. With a whisper and a smile I hear those last words, “Hey…did you bring the pizza and beer?”