Goodbye George

I look at the sallow, sunken man in the hospital bed. It's hard to believe it's George. George, who weighed two hundred fifty pounds in his prime; who carried me across the threshold as a young bride; who wrestled suspects to the ground with ease; who was the hero of his detachment because he was the arm wrestling champion during the Kids for Cancer Sports Day for twenty years running. Ironic isn't it, that cancer stole his strength from him and it took his vitality and his very essence with it.

He's sleeping now, his breath is raspy and shallow. They'll come and give him more medication if it gets worse. There is nothing more they can do for him, except keep him comfortable. I can't believe it's nearly over. The doctor said he could go at any time.

What am I going to do without him? We've been together for fifty years. We celebrated right here in this damn hospital room only a few short weeks ago. The nurses have been so great. I couldn't do what they do – work on a ward where people come to die. Oh Lord, give me strength to see this through. I want to stay with him until the end, but it is so hard; so very hard watching the love of your life fade away.

I stand and move clumsily about the room. I need to stretch my legs a moment, I've been sitting a long time. There's not a lot of space to move – the bed, a chair, twenty-four inches give or take of walkway between the bed and the walls on either side. I watch my step in case I trip on cords or the corner of the metal dresser. I look out the window onto the empty, snow covered courtyard several stories down. It would be a nice view in the summer; flowers, the trees offering a bit of shade to the people sitting around enjoying the weather. Today, it looks bleak and cold, much like it is in this room.

I look at my watch, the kids should be back any time now. I sent them away an hour ago. They argued that I needed a break too, but I stubbornly held my ground. I couldn't leave George here in this room on his own. Not when his time was so near.

A few minutes later, I resume my post in the chair beside the bed. I take his hand, it's cold and dry. I cup it in my warmer ones, giving it a squeeze. I looked across the room at the window and began to talk, my mind a moving picture of our lives together. I no longer see the room, I am lost in the past as I remind George of our lives together.

“Do you remember how we met George? Oh my, you were a handsome figure in your uniform. So dashing. It was a wet and stormy night, remember? The silly old woman who sailed through that red light. She was so lucky you know. I could have killed her had I been distracted for even one second. I almost managed to avoid her. I only clipped her rear fender, though we both spun around like skaters in the Ice Capades.”

“All I remember is the horrible sound of metal collapsing, the world blurring and a sudden, jolting stop. I burst into tears. It was that young father in the station wagon who reached me first, making sure I was okay. Then there you were. Strong and efficient, taking charge of the situation. You were just out of training, still wet behind the ears or so your partner used to remind you. But you did your job admirably, getting the facts and clearing the scene.”

“That poor old lady. She hung her keys up that night, never drove again. You were so kind and understanding to her. I remember listening to you talking to her and feeling something stir inside my heart. Oh, how I wanted you to ask me out and eventually you did, but you took your sweet time”. I laugh. “Yes, if you were nothing else, you were your own man. You never let anyone rush you and you never got angry when I demanded answers before you were ready. You just did what you needed to do. Have I ever told you how I admired that quality?” I squeeze his hand again.

“I still say that if it hadn't been for that minor car accident, our paths might never have crossed and you'd have married some bleach blonde hussy who wouldn't have the wisdom to know she had the best.”

I chuckle at our standing joke. George was always drawing the ladies. Wherever we went women threw themselves at him, even in my presence. They came in all shapes and sizes and the only commonality was their boldness. George, bless him, was a good man, faithful, loyal and true. He never strayed, though he certainly was given opportunities. That reminds me .....

“Remember Gwendoline? Oh, George, she was something else wasn't she. She was perhaps the boldest of those I personally knew about. We lived in that tacky little one bedroom apartment on Cedar Street and she lived right across the hall. Our first home together and it was all we could afford as we saved our pennies to buy our first house.”

“She was a divorcee, with a body that even I admired. Tall, long legs, an hour glass figure, curves and I mean curves in all the right places. You always gave that short whistled 'wow' whenever we talked about her. She was the closest thing I ever knew to a cat in heat. She had a itch with your name on it.” I chuckled, shaking my head.

“Do you remember all her transparent excuses for getting you over to her place. 'Come and kill the spider, George!' 'I need you to fix the leaking faucet, George!' 'George, I have a broken drawer I need you to look at.' I can still see her standing in our doorway, with her bleached hair, teased and back combed until it was almost straw-like; her tight pants and cropped blouses accentuating her figure. She most certainly had broken drawers, didn't she? Oh my.”

“I guess, if I have to be honest with you, I was jealous of her in a way. She was so sultry; sexy in a sleazy sort of way and I was so plain. I did worry in those early days that you would leave me, if not for her, for someone like her. I guess I was insecure , not of you, but of myself. Thankfully I learned to let go and trust you and you never did me wrong. I am a very lucky woman.” Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back and take a deep breath.

“I can tell you that I was absolutely thrilled when we finally bought that house! Moving across town away from her leering eyes took the pressure off. I didn't have competition knocking on my door twice a week, begging for your time. I got pregnant and stopped working after that and soon we were a growing family.” I paused, lost in my own memory for a moment. “I wonder what ever happened to her?”

“For all your strength and vitality, my being pregnant turned you to jelly.” I smiled at the memory. “I loved that about you. You clucked like a mother hen, fussing over me like I was the first woman to be in that condition. But you came through when I needed you. You got me to the hospital and you held my hand until they handed you the baby. Oh, I remember your expression when you looked at Robbie that first time. It is seared in my memory. My heart just about burst that morning. The pride and love that flooded your face. I think that was when I really knew, that no matter what happened, nothing would ever come between us.”

“You looked the same way when Becky came into the world. Our lovely daughter stole your heart the moment you looked into her tiny face. And Peter too, the baby of our brood. You were as proud to hold him as you were all the others, you never made him feel like you'd been there, done that.”

“I loved you more with each child. I didn't think it would be possible to love someone as much as I loved you when we married, but after three kids, my love for you was unfathomable. I finally understood those love songs ... as deep as the ocean, as high as the mountains. You were then and you are now, my everything.”

George stirs. I blink and refocus on the room, turning my attention to him. His eyes are open; he's looking at me. He tries to smile, I see it in his eyes, but it takes too much effort. I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back; sort of ... he's weak. It's barely noticeable, though I feel it like a vice grip on my heart. I take a deep breath. I need to be strong for him.

“Remember when the kids were young? Remember when we went on vacation to Vancouver, our first family holiday. We had such a lovely time in Stanley Park, didn't we? That trip was the first of many and it was special because you showed us that we could have fun every single day. We took two weeks to make a two day trip. We camped along the way, the kids explored Fort Steele and other sites of interest. We picked a basket of peaches in Penticton. We stopped before we got car weary and hiked or played or had a picnic. It was perfect. Then two nights in a small hotel in Vancouver, walking on the beach collecting sea shells. The trip home was just as much fun, playing I spy and pointing out foreign license plates, counting the cows or horses we'd see along the highway. I think it was because of you George. You knew how to have fun.”

His eyes, masked though they are with the drugs he's been given to numb the pain, twinkle as I talk. I continue to go through the stories of our lives together, piece by piece. I don't bring up the tragedies, I don't want him going into the next world remembering the miscarriage I had after Peter or the death of his partner. I remind him of our good time, our children, our love. Our life together.

I never shift my gaze from his, although I feel like the children should be back already. I want to check my watch but talking to George as he keeps his eyes glued to my face is more important right now. I see his love, I cherish that as I laugh about the time Robby played the lead in the school play. He was ten, and so like his father.

“Remember when Robbie played Hansel in this school play?” His nod is barely discernible. “The two of you rehearsing his lines every day. You did all the other parts, changing your voice from Gretel's high pitched squeal to the witch's gravelly cackle. I stood outside Robbie's door and listened to the two of you carry on. You were a good coach and he knew his lines backwards and forwards. At breakfast you would throw out a line from the middle of the play and he knew what he was supposed to say.”

“The night of the play, I think you were more nervous than Robbie. That poor boy walked out onto that stage and forgot everything. Stage fright! You nearly came out of your seat, wanting to rush up there and rescue him. But Robbie did you proud that night. He just said what came into his head and when he got a laugh from the crowd, he just kept it up. The teacher wasn't impressed at first, but the show was well received by the audience. It was the first time Hansel and Gretel was performed as a comedy and Robbie will always be remembered as the most precocious Hansel ever. Our Robbie. It's hard to imagine that he's forty-eight now. Where did the time go? ”

“Our oldest is forty-eight, George. Imagine that. The time goes too quickly. He's a lawyer, a prosecutor. We should have guessed the path he would take, with his theatrical bend, his ability to think on his feet. He and his wife gave us two of our blessings – Julia and Trevor. Gosh, Julia is twenty herself and Trevor is eighteen. He graduates in June. It's going to be a special day.”

I sit for a moment in silence, lost in thoughts of Robbie and his family. Then I move on to Becky. “Oh George!” I sigh merrily. “Do you remember Becky's first date? I don't know who was more nervous. You or me. I was worried the date wouldn't go well and you were worried it would. She was fifteen years old and far too young to understand the complexities of dating or so we thought.”

“But she had a good head on her shoulders and she knew who she was, even back then. She was cool as a cucumber that night, sailing out of the house and back home again, self assured and confident. It made our hearts swell with pride. She never took any guff off the boys, maybe because she had Robbie and Peter to back her up. Maybe because she always knew what she wanted. She was blessed, but I give you a lot of credit for her self confidence. You helped her to see that she was precious and special and that she deserved only the best.”

“Because of your love for her, she didn't give herself away, she waited. She never dated anyone twice who didn't treat her with respect. We were so proud of her, weren't we. She's a teacher, and she married a wonderful man and she gave us those beautiful grand babies. Ellen, Darla and little George, who isn't so little anymore. More of the precious blessings, we've been given.”

“And Peter, our little entrepreneur. He was the only one interested in a paper route and how we wished he was less ambitious on those cold and snowy mornings. Do you remember all the times you climbed out of your warm bed to help that boy when the weather was bad? Too many times, but you never complained. Never once uttered a harsh word, because getting up gave you time with him on his own. Some Saturdays you'd go for breakfast together after the job was finished. You'd come home grinning about some shared secret or joke. I filled in when you were working, but honestly, I know he preferred it when it was you. You were his strength and his hero. He looked up to you. As we all did”

“Peter's wife and his three precious angels – Elizabeth, Karen and Steve, are further evidence of our love. We have three beautiful children and eight wonderful grand kids. All of them a tribute to you, my love. You and I, George, have lived a charmed life, haven't we?”

He nods and whispers .... “Charmed.” Tears fill my eyes. I stare into his face and for a split second I glimpse the man he was before this dreaded disease took hold. “Love you.” he says with more force than his previous whisper.

“To the moon and back.” I say .... it's our ritual, our game.

He closes his eyes. He breaths in, he breaths out and he is gone. I sit there for a long time, holding his hand, tears streaming silently down my face. How am I going to live without him?

A hand rests on my shoulder. It's Robby. The kids and grand kids are all standing behind me, they've been here all the time, quietly listening to the stories of our lives together. There isn't a dry eye among them.

“Goodbye George.” I whisper. “I'll see you on the other side.” I finally let go of his hand, sit back and let the tears flow and my kids crowd around to say goodbye.