A Short Story. The Hospital Room. It was a standard hospital room. The smell of disinfectant was overwhelming. The gray tile floor welcomed no one. There were no lights on. The room was cold and uninviting. The television on the wall was on but there was no sound. The computers and machines that were connected to Dad were blinking on and off but no one seemed to notice. There were two uncomfortable chairs next to the steel frame bed. The mattress was covered with sterile white sheets. There was a gray blanket that the nurse had put over Dad last night because he had become cold. The tray on the other side of the bed had Dad’s breakfast on it. It was cold and he hadn’t eaten it. When I entered the room I noticed the large window that overlooked the trees and the hills in the distance. It was a gray overcast day, colder than normal for late July.
Mom had gone home to shower, to get a change of clothes, and to sleep for a few hours. She was exhausted. Dad was still sleeping. I quickly called my wife, told her I had made it safely and that Dad seemed stable. I told her I loved her and I wished her a happy wedding anniversary. As I sat in one of the chairs, my mind drifted back in time to when Dad had given me my first real baseball glove, a Wilson A2000, when I was 8 years old. I wanted it so badly but it was an expensive glove. Dad, as he always did, saved his pennies and somehow found the money to get me what I wanted. He was so proud when I asked him to immediately go to the backyard and throw baseball to each other. He never missed any of my athletic or academic events throughout grade school, junior high, and high school. He purposely worked the midnight shift on the railroad so he could make all of my after school and evening events. He was there when we won the little league baseball state championship, when I learned to drive a car, when I was inducted into the high school honor society, when I went on my first date, when I went to the prom, when we got beat in the state semi-finals of baseball my junior year, and when we won the state football championship my senior year. He was there when I graduated from college. He was there when his grandchildren were born. He was always there for me.
He and Mom drove all the way to Texas two months after his by-pass surgery to be at my wedding despite the orders from his doctor. His doctor had told him that the by-pass surgery would last about 18 years. His doctor was prophetic. Dad had been in the hospital for a week after suffering a heart attack and he had to be resuscitated twice when his heart had simply stopped. I had driven in from out of town to be there for him and Mom.
Dad began to move in his bed. His eyes focused on me, “Well, I see you finally made it. When did you get here?”
“I’ve been here about two hours. Mom left to get cleaned up and get some sleep. How do you feel today?”
“Actually, pretty good. The food is horrible, so I didn’t eat breakfast. Think you could go down to the cafeteria and get me a spam sandwich?” He laughed knowing that he was on a strict diet.
I gave him a drink of water and laughed, “You couldn’t get Mom to get you a spam sandwich so you think I’ll do it for you. No, I can’t do that. And the cafeteria doesn't have spam sandwiches.”
"Not much of a cafeteria then."
He wanted to know what his favorite daughter-in-law and grandchildren were doing. “Did you get your oldest that new baseball glove he had been asking for?”
“Yes, I sure did. Just like you did when I wanted one.” Then, he asked, “How is your teaching and research coming along?”
I was surprised at the question. He had never asked me about teaching and research. “Well, I am in the middle of some research for my book. I have several long documents from the Cuban archives that I must translate. And you know that since I became Dean I only teach one class a semester.”
Dad grinned, “So, you only teach one class and you’re a Dean. I assume that is some kind of boss, a boss for a bunch of Ph.Ds. And you can take time off to translate some old documents. Wow, you must have a lot of free time at that fancy university!”
We both laughed out loud, “This fall I am teaching international political economy.”
“I’m not even going to ask you what that is all about.”
“You’d like it. I talk about how politics affect economics and economics affect politics at the international level. Kind of like how politics in this state influences the railroad and coal industries and vice-versa. You’re a union man, you understand that.”
“Yes I do and I'd love to hear more. You’ll have to tell me all about it when I get home.”
“I’ll do that.” I noticed that somehow the room had become warmer, more like home.
Dad switched the conversation to Thundering Herd football when the sports on the local news channel came on. I turned up the sound although I don’t think Dad was really listening. He and Mom loved to watch the Herd play football. Whenever Chad Pennington threw a touchdown pass you could always hear Dad’s little giggle. He was so excited about going to the opening game at Clemson.
He began to drift off to sleep but his hand touched mine and in a low, almost unintelligible, whisper-like voice he said, “Be there for your family. Always, always be there for them and thank you for being here for me. I love you.”
He fell asleep and I also began to nod off only to be awakened by his heart monitor. Things happened quickly as doctors and nurses appeared in the room and I had to move away from Dad’s bed. While I don’t remember much from the commotion during those several minutes, what I remember vividly is that a bright and colorful sunlight broke through the clouds and began to shine through the large window on Dad at the very moment his heart monitor went off. Somehow, during those terrible moments of grief, the sunlight was comforting.
At his funeral, I sat alone a few minutes next to a stained-glass window that allowed the warm sunshine into the room. Once again I drifted back to my fondest memories of him. Yes, Dad was always there for me…such a gift of love.
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