Habitual Obituaries
All Good Things Come to An End
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Final Bows
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Still Here
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Bloody Hot!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
A Pair of Aces
After her second stroke at 73, Angelina lost all feeling from the neck down. Her only daughter Julie, busy with work and her own family, could no longer care for her mom so she put her in a senior's home where her mother could receive proper care around the clock. For the most part, Angelina grew accustomed to her new home and didn't mind the revolving door of nurses and other caregivers attending to her every need. She had accepted her fate and knew that her days here on earth were numbered. Her family and friends visited her practically every day and her father and younger brother played cards in her room all day long.
Angelina could talk, but it was too tiring and her words came out slurred. The nurses did their best to understand her, but they always ended up doing something she didn't ask for or giving her something she didn't want. Her father and brother, on the other hand, always understood her, but advised her to talk less and to sleep more and then went back to playing their card games. When she woke up, they'd wave at her and immediately go back to playing their card games. She'd ask them why they didn't go home and they'd ignore her. They wouldn't eat, they didn't sleep and they never stopped playing those darn cards! Angelina didn't understand why they were always with her and eventually, she stopped talking to them. She'd glance over at them every now and then and fall heavier into sleep.
One night, she felt so rested that she could get up on her own. She looked over at her father and brother and they pulled out a chair for her. She walked over to them and decided to join them for a game of cards.
"It's about time," said her brother.
"To learn the rules of this game," added her father.
And, just then, she remembered that they were dead.
Angelina could talk, but it was too tiring and her words came out slurred. The nurses did their best to understand her, but they always ended up doing something she didn't ask for or giving her something she didn't want. Her father and brother, on the other hand, always understood her, but advised her to talk less and to sleep more and then went back to playing their card games. When she woke up, they'd wave at her and immediately go back to playing their card games. She'd ask them why they didn't go home and they'd ignore her. They wouldn't eat, they didn't sleep and they never stopped playing those darn cards! Angelina didn't understand why they were always with her and eventually, she stopped talking to them. She'd glance over at them every now and then and fall heavier into sleep.
One night, she felt so rested that she could get up on her own. She looked over at her father and brother and they pulled out a chair for her. She walked over to them and decided to join them for a game of cards.
"It's about time," said her brother.
"To learn the rules of this game," added her father.
And, just then, she remembered that they were dead.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Lost and Obliged
It was an ordinary night. As Charles left his house, he wondered if she would remember him this time. Who was he kidding? With his car keys jingling in his hand, he walked to the car, unlocked the door, sat in the driver's seat and paused for a few seconds before attempting to start the car. The same doubts were polluting his mind. Why did he bother visiting her every day? She seemed to be getting worse and he wasn't sure he could put up with one more violent outburst. Did anything he would do or say really matter at all anymore? He lifted his heavy hand and put the key into the ignition and started the car. He hoped it wouldn't start so he could use car trouble as an excuse for not visiting her. No such luck. The engine revved and he was obliged to drive 10 km to the hospital, two streets south of the highway and one traffic light east of the dead end street to visit the woman he married 43 years ago and the wife who no longer remembered him. He always timed the drive over even though he knew it took 20 minutes. Tonight, he arrived at the dead end street in 13 minutes and decided to turn on it. He parked the car, got out, looked in the direction of the hospital and starting walking the other way. He didn't know where he was going, nor did it matter. Nothing really mattered anymore. He was already lost without her.
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