Doors

I reached for the door and paused.This is the door of finality.This wife's husband has now left home forever on a gurney in a velour bag with a quilt laid on top. I will never return here again. My work is done.

I entered by another door. I rang the bell and paused. The sister opened the door, "Come this way." I walked through the country kitchen to the living room. The classic scene. Dining room table pushed aside. Room made for the hospital bed. Supplies heaped on the no longer used bedside commode.

The widow, with eyes downcast said that he passed around 3AM. I acknowledged with a solemn look of understanding. I walked near to the head of the bed and looked at his face. Mouth flaccidly open. I reached out in a gesture of comfort touching his arm. I spoke to his wife. " I am going to confirm what we already know." She returned my solemn glance.

In that sacred moment when I place the head of the cold stethoscope on the chest, death is pronounced as if it is a discrete moment in time. When did death first enter? Perhaps when he couldn't remember how to get home from the local hardware store. The one he has frequented since he was a young man. Or maybe when he couldn't remember his wife's name. Or how to dress or eat any longer. In this home, death came slowly over weeks and months and years. It culminated as the door opened and the gurney went through.

Tears filled her eyes and I waited with her in silence. She stepped across the threshold and watched. I remained present, moved by her devotion. Stepping back into the house she reached for the door and closed it. My heart paused. We moved through the final motions: discarding narcotics, assuring her that equipment would be removed,  her regular nurse and the doctor would be notified. I offered my sympathies again. The sister kept me for a moment to tell the story in her words. I gathered my bag and computer and left through the door I had come in by.

Now I reached for the door and pulled it closed. I heard it latch and wondered what death is like after we leave.

Tomato Cage Love

Dig and turn
Tender plantings
Held up in wire
Wind and hail
Pinching off broken growth

Growing still
Support invaded
Flowers promising
Fruit peeking out
Water, weed, and grow

Cage hidden
Verdant jungle
Sunshine, water, weeding
Waiting and forgetting
Hints of red

Inspect and straighten
Marvel, wonder, water, weed
Tomato fruit ripening
Green gives way: yellow, pink, red
Succulent, satisfying fruits of summer