Living Death (Revised)

The light of a single fluorescent tube attempted to fight through its cloudy casing to illuminate a small hospital room. Side-by-side, an elderly husband and wife lay asleep surrounded by machines, a spider web of tubes connecting them. Bags hanging on poles dripped liquid medicines and nutrients into their veins through the needles in their arms. The only sound was that of the monitors, beeping out heart rates at a slow and steady beat. They were alive, yet dead inside.

Up until a few weeks ago, the old man had opened his eyes and his mouth, though no sane words had left his lips. His soul had slowly drifted away, like the ebbing tides. But unlike the tides, it had not come back to shore. While his empty husk deteriorated due to old age, his soul was trapped outside.

From the corner of the room, he watched the machines, his motionless body and his precious wife. A severe stroke had pushed her into a coma over a year ago. She had never regained consciousness. When his soul had slipped from his body almost two weeks ago, he thought that her soul would be there waiting for him, but she wasn’t. Unless she had already gone to heaven, but that didn’t make sense either for she was still alive. His body was still living and he could not even leave the room.

He pushed the uncertainties aside and focused on her again. He yearned to hold her and talk like they used to. Hesitantly, he floated in a stumbling sort of way to the foot of his wife’s bed. Reaching down with a semi-translucent arm, his hand went straight through her foot.

Jerking his arm back, he gazed up at her face. Longing and desire etched his face as all the love he felt for her welled up. “I don’t know if you’re in there, but if you are, I want you to know I love you very much. I miss you. I -” He felt like crying, the place where his heart should have been was constricted with pain.

The door opened, spilling bright white light into the room. Two women entered. The taller one had curly auburn hair and was dabbing her grey eyes with a handkerchief. The shorter one brushed her long ebony hair away from her tear-streaked cheeks. Both were middle-aged, wearing loose fitting, flower print dresses and sandals.

His face softened as he watched them approach his wife’s bed. “Oh my daughters.” He reached up to touch their shoulders as they passed him. His hand went right through, unnoticed. Clenching his fist, he slunk back to the corner of the room.

Standing on either side of the bed, the women each kissed their mother on the cheek and murmured words of love. They looked at her in silence for a few moments, unsure if she had heard. Then they glanced at each other and moved over to his bed.

“Hello, Father,” the ebony-haired one said as she bent over and kissed his frail body on the cheek.

“Hello my daughter,” he whispered from the corner, though he knew they could not hear him. He watched as his other daughter kissed him on the forehead.

“Damn it!” he growled. He started to move towards them, but stopped knowing it was futile. “I’m not really in there, girls. That is just a shell. Please, I beg you, if any part of your soul can hear me, please let me go!”

To his plea they did not respond. Instead, they held his hands and told him of their day. The long boring day at work, the spicy salad they had shared for lunch and the bad traffic on the way to the hospital.

He stood there, watching them, wishing he could somehow return to his body, but he knew he couldn’t. He had tried several times, but he had just slipped right through to the floor. Not being able to leave or enter his body frustrated him to no end.

The auburn-haired daughter gently put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “He’s asleep. We should let him rest.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek goodbye.

“I wish I could find that final rest,” he cried. “I want to find death!”

A figure appeared in the doorway. “Excuse me, ladies, but if I could speak with you, about your parents.” The daughters nodded and left the room.

As their forms became obscured by the bright light, he wept. “Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? I was a good husband, a good father, a good worker. I did everything I was supposed to. Why can’t I move on? Why do I have to linger here, seeing myself rot? I am no longer the man I was! Why is death avoiding me?”

“That’s funny. Usually, it’s the other way around.” A small figure stood in the lighted doorway.

He blinked in surprise. “Sorry?”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” the short person said, stepping into the room. Now he could see that it was a young girl. Her long midnight black hair brushed the ground as she walked towards him. Her porcelain white skin shone against her ebony hair. Her simple grey dress softened the contrast while her smile softened his anger. She stopped a few feet away from him and looked up. “It’s just that usually people try to avoid death. I never try to avoid people. I like people too much to do that.”

“But, you’re just a little girl.” He looked her up and down, remembering all the incarnations of death he had read about in books or seen in the movies. This little girl didn’t match any of them. Maybe she was just a child and because children are innocent, she could see souls.

She sighed. “Well, I tried being a baby to represent new beginnings. But too many people thought I was Cupid!” She giggled, but then stopped. Grimacing, she asked, “Would you rather see a skeletal figure in a robe carrying a scythe? I can do that if you prefer.”

Confused, he stepped forward. “You’re really the Death?”

“Yes.” She nodded and smiled again. “The one and only. No matter what form I take, I am still Death.”

His face lit up with joy. “Then you’ve finally come for me! And -” He looked over at his wife. “My wife? Is she still in there? Is it her time to go?”

Death looked over at his wife in the bed. “She is in there, but I’m sorry. It’s not her time. Nor yours.” She looked back at him. “I just heard you as I was passing by. I thought you might need some cheering up.”

He gaped at her in shock. “What? But, I don’t want comfort. I want to die! Why can’t you kill me!”

She sighed. “That’s not my job.”

“But you’re Death. You kill people, don’t you?” He moved towards her, hoping that by being closer to her physically, he would be closer to dying.

“No, I don’t kill people. People kill people, whether it’s themselves or others. I can’t change the state of your physical body.” She reached out and touched his hand. “But I can help you with the state of your soul.”

“My soul?” He gazed down into her eyes.

“Yes. Have you looked at yourself? You have a physical form, a shape.” She opened her eyes wider and he saw himself reflected there. He looked like he was -

“33 years, 2 months and 6 days old, if I’m not mistaken,” she commented. “The day you married your wife. That was the first tux you ever bought and the last, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, remembering. The day he married his wife was when his life had really begun. He opened his eyes and looked over at himself lying on the bed. His frail form was no longer the man he once was.

“And you never will be.” Death squeezed his hand gently. “But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. If you can come to terms with dying, then I’ll be able to take you when it’s time.”

“Come to terms with dying? But I want to die!” He gripped her hand, not wanting her to leave without him.

She shook her head, sadness filled her eyes. “You may want to leave, but you haven’t let go of your life. If you can’t and your body dies, then you will become a ghost. You will stay in the form that you are now, unable to leave.” She slipped her hand out of his.

His hand fell back to his side. “I don’t understand. Are you saying that I haven’t accepted my death? Because I really do want to go! Not just for myself, because I feel no pain right now. But for my daughters. For the pain they are going through. I want to die, to release them from the pain and the burden that they carry.”

“But it’s not about death. The final act of death is easy. I just take your hand and lead you to where you need to go.” She paused and cocked her head to the side. “But before you can truly die, you must let go of yourself.”

Confusion filled his face. Shaking his head from side to side, he questioned, “Let go of myself?”

“Yup!” she chirped. “Think about it. What have you been worrying about for the last, oh, couple of years?” She paused for a moment then continued when he didn’t answer “You fear losing your identity.”

He stumbled back as if she had slapped him. His eyes widened with the realization, the truth of her words. Him. Himself. His life. He didn’t want to let go.

Turning his back to her, he started thinking about what his life had meant? All the things he had done, all the things he had said, all the people he had met. What did it all mean now that he was dying and leaving it all behind? Though he was ready to leave to stop all the pain, he hadn’t fully accepted what that meant. In truth, he was afraid of dying. Not the pain, but the loss of self. He was losing his identity and losing control.

He turned around to see Death walking back into the bright light. “Wait!” He ran towards her, trying to grab her, to stop her from leaving.

“Don’t worry,” she spoke over her shoulder. “You’ll see me again, soon.” She disappeared into the light just as he reached the doorway. He slammed into the light like it was a wall and stumbled backwards. He sighed, remembering that he couldn’t leave, but now he understood why. He trudged over to his body and looked down at it. He wondered how soon was soon, and hoped that it was closer than he thought.

Through the long night, he thought about his life and about dying. He paced around the room as he thought back to when he had first started deteriorating. There had been many times he had forgotten who he was or who his daughters were. One moment, he knew where he was and the next, he didn’t. It wasn’t just forgetting the who or the where, but the how. It had been so hard to even sit up by himself or eat on his own. He remembered the humiliation as the nurse, a stranger, helped him use the toilet. This was what he was afraid of. Not of death. She was right; death was easy if you were ready for it. The hardest part of dying was accepting the loss of identity and loss of control.

Control. That was the problem and what he truly was afraid of. But he had already lost control. He was no longer in his body. Even when he had been, this whole past year had been a struggle both mentally and physically. Before that, he had been in charge of himself.

“I took all of that for granted!” He stared down at his body. “I never thought about how lucky I was to be able to move on my own, to think on my own. To do everything without help. I never thought about the day when I would lose it all.” His eyes widened and he rushed over to his wife’s body. “My love, I hope somehow you can hear me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so selfish and only worrying about myself. I wish I could help you. But I don’t know how. I just hope that you’ve been able to come to terms with dying.” He stopped, remembering how his wife had been in life. She had been his pillar of strength, always there for him, always patient with him.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he smiled at her. He gazed lovingly down at her wrinkled face. He remembered when he had first met her. How beautiful she had been. Then he had been blessed with the opportunity to get to know her and discovered just how beautiful she was inside too. She was still beautiful inside. Only now she was trapped, just like him. They were trapped in a living death, but he had found comfort and knew that he could wait. And he would be ready.

The first rays of the sun were brightening the horizon. In the dimly lit room, he waited with a patience that he had never known in life. All he had to do was wait for Death to come back and claim his soul. But if his body continued to be on life support, he knew he wasn’t going to die soon. He wondered how soon was soon to a being who had to be as old as time when a shadow passed in the doorway. Hopeful, he looked up.

His two daughters entered the room, both bleary-eyed and tired. They leaned on each other for support as several doctors walked past them into the room. The doctors chattered, giving directions to each other and asking the women questions. His daughters simply nodded their heads in response. Otherwise, they remained by the door, still as statues in opposition to the quick movements of the physicians.

He smiled as he realized that they were removing the tubes and the IVs from both his body and his wife’s. He felt light and free as the last tube was removed and only the heart monitors remained. As the doctors were leaving, one informed the women that it would be sooner for their mother than for their father. And then they were gone. It was only family now.

His daughters stood between both beds and looked from one bed to another. They held each other’s hand for comfort and waited for release, relief, and finally, for Death.

He stood behind them. He wanted to hold them, to talk to them and tell them that it was okay. Like he used to do when they were small and they had been afraid of the dark. Once they had fallen asleep, he had tucked them into bed and kissed them both good night. He had shut the door, but not all the way so that some of the hall light would shine in to light up their dreams.

One of the machines flat lined, breaking him from his reverie. The women rushed over to their mother and clasped her hands. They told her that they loved her and would miss her very much. And then he saw her. Her shapeless soul rose up out of her body and floated over to him.

“Honey!” he cried as she hovered near him. Joy filled him and he rose higher into the air. “I missed you so.”

“I missed you too.” Love radiated from her towards him

He circled around her, not sure how to touch another soul. He started to reach out and that’s when he realized he no longer had a form - no hands, no feet. “I did it. I let go and I am no longer tied to my past.”

“I don’t fully understand dear, but it sounds like a good thing,” she replied.

“It means that I’ll be able to move on when I die, but I don’t know when that will be,” he confessed to her. “She said soon, but -”

“Not this soon.” The small figure appeared in the doorway again. “I’m sorry. I’m just here for her.” She held out her hand to his wife.

She started to float towards Death’s hand, but stopped and floated back to him. “No, please,” his wife begged. “Let me stay with him. It’s been so long.”

Death paused and pulled back her hand. “But you’ll see him again.”

“I know.” She paused as part of her reached out and touched him. “I just don’t want him to be alone right now. You have to come back here for him anyway. It wouldn’t mess up the system too badly would it?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Death thought for a moment then grinned. “No, I don’t think it would mess anything up too much. I have a few things to take care of anyway and then I’ll be back for you both.” She winked, turned and dissipated into the light.

Relief spread across him as they danced, laughter spilling forth as their forms mingled. When they touched, they shared more with each other than they had in life. They saw the truth behind their loving words and actions. They saw how each of them had felt these past few years. Her year of darkness. His year of madness. They hovered in the corner, occasionally touching each other for support, but mostly waiting until it was his time.

Their daughters too waited, watching his body. They wiped their eyes with wet handkerchiefs, gripping each other’s hand for support.

A couple of hours passed and another figure appeared in the doorway. A nurse quickly walked in. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over.” His daughters nodded and looked down at the resting form of their father.

“We’ll be back in the morning.” The ebony-haired one kissed his cheek.

“We love you.” The auburn-haired one squeezed his hand.

As the nurse ushered the women out of the room, he commented. “Maybe I’ll pass in the night so that they won’t have to bear witness to my death. They are in so much pain.”

“But honey that might cheat them. It might rob them of mourning and relief. Some people have a better closure if they witness the moment of death.”

“I don’t think of it like that.” He mingled with her for a moment to see it from her perspective. “It isn’t the way I would want it, but you are right. Everyone is different and it might be more painful to miss the moment of closure.”

“Don’t worry about it, darling. It’s not really up to us, now is it?”

“No, I suppose not. They’ve stopped the machines from controlling us. Now it’s up to nature to let go.” He floated over to his body. She followed.

As he hovered next to his body, he said, “Thank you my dear. This would have been a hard wait without you.”

“You are welcome. I must admit that I was a little scared to ask her, but I reasoned that the worst she could do was take me away, so I asked.”

He chuckled. “So logical. I’m sure something worse could have happened, but I’d rather not dwell on it. Let’s enjoy our time together here.”

So they floated, staying near his bed, enjoying the stillness and quiet of each other’s company. The only sound disturbing their peace was the constant rhythmic beep, beep of the heart monitor.

Before long, though he wasn’t sure how long it had been for he had lost track of time, the small figure again appeared in the doorway. Death walked in and smiled at both of them. They beamed back as the machine flat lined. He suddenly felt free, as if there had been an invisible cord connecting him to his body.

Then he floated towards Death. “I’m ready now. I’m not afraid of dying.”

“I know.” Death reached out with both of her hands. He floated to one and his wife to the other. Death led them through the lighted doorway into the beyond. They faded away, leaving the dim room behind them.

THE END

(3,421 words)