Done

It was time. This had gone on long enough. Look at him, he said to himself. Just look at him. All quiet. Silent. No words, nor laughter. A man long gone, the son whispered.

You come into this world wailing and you go home without a noise. Strangest thing, he placed his hand on his father’s chest, the heart still beats. It still wants to live. Or, is that the feeding tube giving him hope. He never liked olives, brushed pop’s hair out of his face.

No one wants to die. Evangelicals say they want to go home, but, they’re just as scared as the rest of us. Buddhists believe in nothing. Nothing, try wrapping your American head ’round that. There has to be some kind of reward when it’s all done, he smiled. Which do you prefer dad? Nothing, or, a mansion on a hill? To spend your days with Jesus? or, maybe Virgil?

Sir, we have papers for you to sign, the nurse said. You’ve come to your decision?, the son nodded and signed on the x. It won’t be long, she said. I’m so sorry, he smiled.

See you down the road, he said. Don’t take any wooden nickels.

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