
Archive for the 'Issue 1.16' Category
John heard the door close, then the footsteps. His grandmother
approached, and he turned his head daring to look upon her face. Her
eyes betrayed what her other features would not. She paused in front
of John, spending a moment in her memories, and despite her efforts,
a single tear formed, and blinked away, rolled down her cheek.
“You can go in. He’ll be so glad you’re here.”
John stood, hugged this wonderful woman, then pulled away. The walk
down this small hall seemed longer now than when he was a child.
Sunlight spilled in unmercifully through each window, when it should
have been raining. How dare cheeriness intrude into this solemn,
final day? The door knob turned, the hinges groaned slightly, and
then John was inside, alone with his Grandfather.
Even under the blankets and sheets, John’s grandfather’s bulk was
visible. Fed a diet of red meat and potatoes for seventy some odd
years will do that. The slow up and down, up and down, of the covers
showed John there wasn’t much time left. The labored breathing, the
fluid gurgle, it all meant somewhere in this room death was waiting
silently ready to claim another victim.
“Hello Grand Pa.” John found it took great courage to grab the man’s
hand. The hand felt cold, stiff, foreign. These were the hands that
helped build so much of America. The local lake was scooped out with
his own tractors, the pit needed to contain the water. These hands
cradled babies, built companies, held lovers. They, he, deserved so
much better.

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