THE LAST KISS

His snores sound as good as the music he arranged on the IPod. Sunlight is filtering through the Oaks and a warm breeze crosses over my body like it’s being guided directly to me. “Here is another day for you,” it says.

“Here Comes the Sun” plays softly. Those Beatles did provide some great music.  I remember how we downed rum and Coke and sang “Judy in the Sky with Diamonds” at the tops of our out-of-tune voices, lined up with friends, arm in arm, swaying back and forth.  Was that really forty years ago?  What was the name of that bar?  Oh, what difference does it make?

He’s been sleeping in that chair for several nights now, won’t leave my side. If I could sweep him in my arms I would, but I can’t.   I wonder if my thoughts get into his brain.  There’s still so much I’d like to say to him, like, “It’s all good. I am okay, in fact, I‘m great and feeling almost like air.  And, remember to wear clean socks each day.”

“Honey, are you awake?”  He smiles stroking my head.  “How would you like a sip of ice?”

“Ummm.  That is good,” I say in my mind hoping he gets the message.

“Good morning,” says our hospice nurse, Becky, peaking in the door.   Leaning over me while taking vital signs, she says, ” I think today might be her day.”  She looks at Bob, “ Is there anything I can do for you?”

He shakes his head still rubbing my brow.  “I want her to be comfortable.   Do you understand? Very comfortable.”

“Mrs. H., we will keep you feeling good all the way. Just like we talked about,” says Becky in a clear slow soft voice. She pulls my eyelids open, flashing a tiny light, testing my reflexes. She smells like lavender and starch.

Don’t they know I can hear like an elephant? I noticed this yesterday. I think it was yesterday.  Time doesn’t make much sense now that I don’t have any left.  I only know it’s passing because of the sun.  “I AM FINE”, I want to scream but my voice doesn’t work and my eyes will barely open.  But my ears, they can hear a gardener clipping hedges three houses away.  If I’d had this hearing all my life just think what I could have overheard.  At each of those thousands of lady lunches and office parties I would have gathered news worthy of my own TV show.

“Hi Dad. How is she doing this morning?” says my daughter entering the room arms filled with flowers, ribbons, vases and such.  Judy always has to have the surroundings look like a magazine picture.  She leans over and joins in the brow stroking, then takes my hand and rubs it.  Can she feel me rubbing back? 

Nurse Becky motions to both of them and they go into the hallway.  Of course I can hear every word they say and now, funniest thing, I can see them.  It’s kind of foggy, but there they are, standing in a circle, Bob holding Judy’s hand.

“Her vitals are slipping, her breathing is shallow, temp is low and her circulation is beginning to slow.  Now is the time to say your good byes,” Becky tells them.

I just hate this.  Seeing them cry over loosing me. It’s more than I can bear. I escape through my window, soaring over the trees and the rose garden.  What a glorious day.  A young boy is pulling his wagon along the sidewalk, a little brown terrier jumping alongside.  It’s Charley when he was about six, with Trixie. I float over him and circle around our neighborhood, the old neighborhood, the one where we lived when the kids were in elementary school.  

My IPod has changed to Frank singing,

“Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

If you can use some exotic booze

There's a bar in far Bombay

Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

Once I get you up there where the air is rarified

We'll just glide, starry-eyed

Once I get you up there I'll be holding you so near

You may hear angels cheer 'cause we're together.

“Beautiful.  Yeah, Frank let’s fly.  I‘m smiling.  They’re standing over me again.  I wonder if they see it, that I’m smiling?

Judy is patting my hand and grabs an Emory board from her purse and begins filing my nails.  I guess they’re a mess after this past week’s neglect.  Bob has pealed the blankets off my feet and is massaging.

“Her feet are looking blue.  What do you think?” he says to our daughter.

“You know she can hear us.  Mom, can you hear us?  Blink your eyes if you can hear us,” says Judy.

I try as hard as I can but I have no control of this body anymore.  I wish I could tell them I don’t hurt.  I don’t feel a thing.

“Mom, we know you want to go on, but please wait for Charley.  He’s on his way.”

Oh, Charles.  I will wait for my Charley.  But look at that sky, the clouds.  I smell chocolate cake baking as I look over our old house.  The yard needs mowing but is beautiful.  I am holding a baby.  It’s Judy and my mother and dad are laughing and pointing to her red hair.  I’m at the high school stadium.  There’s Charley in his uniform, helmet off and he’s being congratulated by his teammates.  Judy is jumping up and down in her red and white cheerleader outfit.  Bob and I are hugging.  We are young and thin. I soar like an Eagle over fields of tulips. It’s like a bright rainbow beaming purple, red, yellow, pink as far as I can see. While I float, the terrain changes to white peaked mountains, I immerse myself in warm clouds turning over and over, darting up and down like a circus performer.  I glide over an immense emerald lake sparkling like it’s sprinkled with gold coins.  A school of white Dolphins jumps in unison as they play in the warm gulf waters. 

Taio Cruz’s piano music fills my soul.  Bob is back in his chair and Judy is arranging flowers.  They both jump up.  I already saw his car pull into the driveway and his nimble body sprint across the lawn, in the front door and down the hall.  Charley leans over and whispers into my ear, “I love you Mom.  I know I didn’t say it enough, but you knew.  I could always tell it in your eyes.”

My eyes open and I smile.  They see it.  Wonderful!  They see it this time.  I focus on each of their faces.  They smile back and laugh making music that surpasses the IPod’s offerings. 

I slip out the window like a bubble, sailing far above the Oaks, orbiting into billowy clouds, singing and giggling as I pass the towering Cascades, the endless Pacific, the vast African plains. My essence, the “me only I know”, is embraced by the stratosphere. Textures, fragrances, colors and light connect like a boundless work of art fusing with the echo of continuous tones, and limitless melodies, a million voices overflowing, resonating, powerful. We all combine into a massive vibration that is all, is nothing, is everything, united, eternal.

“She has gone,” says Judy sobbing.  Bob cradles her and Charley puts his arms around both. 

“Did you feel it?  The warm breeze?  Just as she took her last breath?” says Charley softly.

“Yes, it was her last kiss,” Bob closes his eyes as his breath caresses the air.