There is no real way to ever say goodbye to someone. In some cases death is the last thing you would expect, like a car accident, a plane crash or a robbery in which they get shot. But there are times when someone might get sick or fall into a coma, in that case you do get the chance to say goodbye. In those moments before someone takes their final breath, their family members tell them everything they want to say before they are gone forever. Only when that person is gone, do you realize how much you forgot to tell them...
*  *  *
The sun was setting, leaving the sky in flames, slowly sinking behind the tree line, casting shadows across the forest floor. I sat across from my grandfather, in our small cottage, a pile of games spread out before us. My grandfather’s eyes twinkled with mischief as a playful smile made its way across his face, “What game are we going to play today, Chastity? Chess, or a game of cards?”
I gave him a serious glare, before his smile became so overwhelming that I couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s your turn to pick, I chose last night.”
As dusk turned into night and the stars twinkled in the sky, I placed down my winning deck of cards with a satisfying thump. I looked up, expecting to see my grandfather pretending to be a sore loser with a proud gaze hidden in his eyes, but instead when I looked up I saw that the chair where he had been sitting seconds ago, was empty. The first thought that crossed my mind, was that he was going to go really far with his joke. So I sat there with a grin upon my face as the seconds ticked by on the old grandfather clock beside me. Seconds led to minutes and I began to wonder what was really going on. I stood up and only then did I see my grandfather lying behind his armchair. “Grandpa! Wake up! Come one... wake up!” I screamed as I crouched by his side shaking his shoulders. His breathing was still steady, but he didn’t stir. I raced for the landline and dialled 911. I put the phone back and sat by his side until I heard the ambulance arrive.
*  *  *
How had I not noticed! I thought as a nurse pushed an empty wheelchair towards an elderly woman sitting beside me in the waiting room. I shook the thought from my mind. It was past eight o’clock on a Thursday morning and the hospital was already crawling with people; babies crying, people coughing, people crying tears of joy or of pain, doctors walking out of rooms with good or bad news, nurses bustling around tending to people.
I sat waiting for my grandfather’s doctor, Dr. Lowing, who usually made his way to the waiting room at around 08:35. I picked up one of the tattered magazines and flipped through the pages, noticing how old it was, with pictures that had been ripped out and folded corners. My grandfather had been in a coma for nearly a month, since that casual night that had turned into a nightmare. My grandfather had had a heart attack due to high blood pressure, which was caused by a brain aneurysm leading into a coma. According to Dr. Lowing, my grandfather has had the aneurysm for a long time, but somehow I failed to see the symptoms. The doctor tries to assure me that it wasn’t my fault and that my grandfather didn’t want me to know so that I wouldn’t worry. But now I am worried… and I’m alone.
I can’t lose my grandfather… the thought makes its way into my mind and as quickly as it comes, I force it away. I see Dr. Lowing making his way to the reception. I place the worn magazine back on the pile, pick up my school bag, and make my way over to the doctor. “Good morning Dr. Lowing.”
His graying moustache twitches as he replies, “Good morning, Ms. Chastity.” He picks up the blue clipboard that he had brought in earlier and flips through the pages with his usual grim look. Only this time as he looks up, his look remains grim, unlike all the other times when a smile would spread across his face. Immediately I knew something was wrong and I felt a lump forming in my throat. Dr. Lowing must have realized my sudden reaction because he asked me to follow him to his office. I had only been in his office once before, the morning after my grandfather was brought in. That time we had discussed my grandfather’s condition but now, as I followed him through the hallways, every bad thought I had had the past month about his condition raced through my mind… Suddenly I felt dizzy and the hallway seemed too tight and there were too many people crowding the hospital.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached Dr. Lowing’s office and he stopped to hold the door open for me. Once inside, I frantically reached for the chair as the doctor closed the door behind me. Dr. Lowing sat down across from me and put down the clipboard that held the answers I so desperately wanted, but dreaded with a fear I had never known before. A nurse came in and set down a small plastic cup of water in front of me and only then did I notice how dry my mouth was. As I sipped on the water, Dr. Lowing adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. The moment finally arrived. My legs were shaking so I tucked them under the chair in an attempt to hide them. I placed the cup on the desk and clenched my sweaty fingers.
“Ms. Palmer…” He started and now I knew for sure that something was wrong because he had only ever called me that the night my grandfather was brought in. “Mr. Palmer’s condition has been stable since he was first brought in, but I regret to inform you that that is no longer the case. As much as I hate to tell you this, it is now certain that there is no chance your grandfather will wake up. Over the past couple of days, we ran a few more tests to fully understand how stable Mr. Palmer is and what sort of medication he may need. Unfortunately, for reasons beyond our control, we are now sure that Mr. Palmer is brain dead.”
I was absolutely speechless. Not because of what I had been told, that was something I still didn’t fully understand, but for some other reason. I sat there and every memory I had ever shared with my grandfather flooded my mind and I simply stared out the window at the perfectly cloudless sky. My grandfather and I had always been close. After the sudden death of my parents, seven years ago, in a car accident when I was eleven, the only family I had left was my maternal grandfather. I moved in with him and we became even closer. We created habits, like our game nights and morning walks and he never failed to make me smile. Yet, despite how close we were, I still failed to notice that slowly he was getting sicker and sicker and now he lies on the gurney in the white robes among the white pillows and blankets in a white room with blank walls as various machines continuously beep around him.
Abruptly, I understood Dr. Lowing’s words and I felt tears begin to form in my eyes. I let them run down my face caring solely for the fact that the only thing keeping my grandfather alive at this point were those damn machines that beeped steadily at his side. Instead of feeling sad that my grandfather was… dead… all I felt was anger. Angry at Dr. Lowing for not doing more for him. Angry at the nurses for not taking better care of him. Angry at the fact that so many other people in the world got to leave the hospital with smiles on their faces. Angry that my parents got into a car accident and left me. Angry that my grandfather didn’t let me help him, that he wouldn’t let me see how sick he was, thinking I was too weak or too young to understand. But mostly I was angry at myself for not noticing how sick he was in the first place.
I stood outside my grandfather’s room, looking in through the window as nurses removed the tube from his mouth and switched off all the machines. I had signed the papers that stated my agreement with the doctors unhooking the machines. As my grandfather was rolled out of the ICU, I stood there for a while and stared into the empty room. Suddenly, the realization hit me, I dropped my bag and stumbled back against the wall. I caught myself and slowly slid to the ground. Before I knew it, warm, fat tears were rolling down my face again and I knew that I had seen my grandfather for the last time, that day.
I was alone now.