Twenty-One and Invincible

Grandpa was sitting upright in the bed, his hand on his chest with his eyes closed. The breathing tube was attached to his nostrils and I could hear labored inhales as I sat next to his bed, Grandma right beside me.

“Grandpa,” I said quietly, a small smile on my face. “You’re awake.”

He let out a grunt that was followed by a dry heaving. “Don’t get your hopes up for me.”

I immediately frowned. “Grandpa, don’t talk like that.”

“No, it’s you that shouldn’t talk like that,” he boomed, an authoritative tone heavy in his voice. “Look at me. Just take one look. This is my death bed, Carmen. I know it, you know it, your grandmother knows it. I don’t have much time left and so I wanted to speak to the two of you again before I die.”

Tears sprung to my eyes. “Grandpa, don’t say that!”

Grandma put her hand on my shoulder. I turned to her, hoping to find some sort of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. But when I looked into her eyes, I couldn’t find it. All I saw was sadness. Sadness and acceptance. Acceptance of the inevitable.

“Just listen, Carmen,” she said to me softly as she gazed at her husband and reached over to take hold of his hand.

Grandpa turned to me. I had to bite my lip to stop the waves of hysteria from taking over my body. The sounds were muffled, but the tears didn’t stop.

“Carmen,” he began. He coughed five times, clutching his chest with his free hand. “I’ve watched you grow up from a beautiful little girl into a beautiful young woman. You’ve had to deal with so much at such a young age. It’s amazing to me that you were able to become the lady that you are today. So confident, so self-assured.”

I smiled a bit. “I’m not that confident, Grandpa.”

“You are,” he pressed. “When you were born, we would always say that your mother’s spirit joined you. You are like her in so many ways. A lovely, beautiful woman who had so much potential to be great. And she was. She was the perfect match for our son, such a vivacious person with an infectious smile. It tore your father’s world apart when she passed.”

Grandma gave a small nod, as if she was agreeing with him.

He continued. “He promised he would always take care of you, and he did. He started to work from home so he could be with you. He wanted to raise you the way your mother had intended, with loving parents in a caring environment. But then...the accident...”

I could hear Grandpa starting to get choked up. I’d never seen him cry before--ever. I didn’t know what to do.

“You know the story. It was around Christmas and you and your father were visiting family in Albany. The roads were icy, the snow was thick. But your father was a smart man. He took all the precautions, making sure to drive slowly in order to make sure the two of you were safe. But in a collision, there’s always that freak accident factor that changes everything.”

He took in a breath.

“Your father never accounted for drunk drivers. A man in a truck ran a red light and drove right into the side of the car. The impact broke your father’s neck, but miraculously, you only had a few broken bones. When the ambulances came onto the scene of the crash and took you away, the paramedics told us that your father never once stopped calling your name. You were the world to him, Carmen. And he died in the hospital not knowing whether or not you would live.”

I stifled a sob. “Grandpa, why are you telling me all this?”

“Because,” he said, barely above a hoarse whisper. “I don’t want to have to be in that same situation. I don’t want to be on my death bed, counting down the minutes I have left, not knowing that you and your grandmother are going to be alright without me.”

He coughed, harder this time.

“Death is a part of life, Carmen. It’s something that you’ve had to deal with, but were too young to understand. And now that you’re older and are aware of it, I can tell that you’re terrified. I know that I will die here in this hospital. I know that my time is almost up. But yours isn’t. You’re still so young. You have the world in front of you. You have found a man who genuinely loves you and would do anything for you.”

I smiled a little. “Patrick?”

He smiled too. “Yes, Patrick. Hold onto that kid, he’s a keeper.”

Another few coughs and heavy breathing.

“My only regret in life is not telling you more often how much you mean to me. I know that I can be abrasive and harsh...but I’m only that way because I need to be. You needed a father figure and I needed to be the one to teach you discipline and control. You’re all that I have left of my own son. You never want to have to see your children pass before you do, but sometimes these things are out of our control.”

I looked over at Grandma. She sent me a weak half-smile and motioned to hers and Grandpa’s joined hands. I placed my palm over top of both of theirs.

Grandpa looked over at Grandma. “Jenny,” he smiled, his eyes growing soft. “My beautiful Jenny. I still think you were a fool to marry a man like me, but I cannot express to you how glad I am that you said yes. I have loved you every single day of my life and I will continue to cherish you even when I’m gone. I can only hope that in seeing me like this, a weak old man, you won’t think any less of me.”

Grandma leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I could never, darling.”

Grandpa turned to me again. “Carmen, you are like a daughter to me,” he said. He blinked slowly, taking in a deep breath as he did so. His words slowed a bit. “I know you’ll be successful. I know you’ll live through this moment. And I know that one day, you’ll start your own family and you’ll be a wonderful mother. You will get the chance that your mother never had, to raise your kids and raise them properly. I am not worried about your future, so do not worry about mine.”

I could feel his grip tighten a bit underneath my palm. Grandma seemed to notice it too.

“My girls. My beautiful girls. I love you both more than words can express. I just wish I told you more often.” His eyes closed. “But in this final goodbye, there are no regrets. I’ve lived a good life. I’ve loved and been loved. That’s all you really need.” He took in a deep, slow breath, his eyes still closed. “Goodbye, Jenny. Goodbye, Carmen. Maybe one day we’ll see each other again.”

A long, slow exhale escaped his lips and I felt his grip on mine and Grandma’s hands starting to slack.

Tears streamed down my face.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t feel.

I couldn’t breathe.

Everything stopped.

The one thing that snapped me back to reality was the sound of the heart monitor flat-lining, that unnerving high-pitched continuous beep throwing the truth right into my face.

Grandpa was gone.