Modern Romanticism

I’m aware, but my eyes are closed. I cannot open them. Less than two feet from me, a woman’s soft breaths clatter together. It is my wife who cries. She’s holding my hand, squeezing it. My son is also close by. He doesn’t cry, and he doesn’t speak. Instead, he’s silent, just as he’s been for the final few months up to this day.

I’m dying. I can’t command my limbs to move, as the only semblance of motion comes from my rising chest. These lungs of mine are running in overdrive, processing oxygen through desperation. My heart thuds like the sounds of percussion in a parade. That parade would celebrate something that’ll live on. My heart, pressed for time, struggles against life. I won’t be here in the coming hours. At some point, everything inside will shut down, one organ after the next, until I see darkness. Then, I’ll see light.

Now I hear the footfalls of my son; he’s stood up. He walks away. He’s leaving this room. What doesn’t he want to see? No, that’s not correct to wonder. He’s seen everything. His father, ravaged with cancer, crying out with pain will become as quiet as he is. My wife must be affected differently. If I could tell her anything, what would I say? Perhaps if I could scream again, would she tend to her husband who is mere inches from death? All I can do is keep releasing the noise of a death rattle. That’s all that anyone can hear from me.

In my mind, I’m piecing together the words that won’t ever leap off my tongue. I’ll say from within, while knowing they’ll just echo back. Perhaps for some additional peace to drag into my coming death, this is all these words will be worth.

“Life. Beloved, remaining life. My wife. My son. My family. My friends. In this month of September, you’ll come back to many things. The memories we’ve shared will be like treasures unearthed in an instant; they’ll reform their vivid colors and bold shapes for you to gaze upon. For you to be haunted by. I know that many of you will weep. I know that many of you will lag behind on life’s pursuits. But please, don’t remember when I screamed in agony. Such recalled suffering will prolong your own. Just speak my name in the cold air to give you comfort. Relive my smile. Recover my touch. After any of you have done so, just walk away. Walk forward with the consolation of love and lifetimes bound together for eternity.”