"Waiting to die."(Kevin Hughes) “What?!”

She stood dumbfounded in front of the cheerful man who had just said something to her that was so unlike him…her brain couldn’t process it. He smiled that gentle smile of his at her, waiting for her brain to catch up. She found her voice.

“You can’t be serious. Do you need help? I mean ending it all isn’t the way to go.”

He took one of her hands in his. Lifting it lightly to his lips, he gave an archaic (but somehow gallant) brush of his lips to the back of her palm. He let her hand drop. Then he chuckled.

“Lizzy, I didn’t say I was going to commit suicide. I am not that kind of person. My will and life just aren’t predisposed to that. “

Lizzy sighed in relief.

“What I said was this: I am waiting to die. That’s all. Think of it like those ten months women carry babies around…waiting for them to be born. The excitement, the wonder, the feeling of having done something…like a miracle. And the relief to have their own body back to themselves again. In a way, that is what I am doing. Waiting for the miracle of death.”

Lizzy got worried…again.

“The miracle of death?”

He nodded at her.

“Birth is a miracle, and death…at the end of a long productive life…well, that is a miracle too.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. You are young. You aren’t supposed to understand. You wouldn’t let go of life. You would fight. That’s natural. But I am eighty three years old. Most of my friends are dead and gone. My children are nearing retirement age. Oh sure, they shop me around at Family gatherings, like Weddings and Funerals…but mostly they leave me to myself. I get up every morning. If the pains aren’t too great, I go for my walks. If it is a bad day, well a cup of tea, and sitting on the porch watching the world go by is the plan. I can let go when it is time. No fuss. No muss. Just slip away in the night. If I am lucky.

I don’t have a TV. I stopped watching movies more than a decade ago. I listen to music, mostly without lyrics. I read some…not anywhere near as much as I used to, but nothing heavy, deep, or filled with reflection. I am glad that I don’t have the problems most folks my age do. Just the arthritis, and High Blood Pressure - and believe me, when I have an Arthritis Flare…well, I am not good company. If it is bad enough to wake me…I will take some Tylenol.

I have travelled enough, seen enough, and been loved enough, that my memories are better for me than any movie, TV show, or book. I don’t have much to look forward to, but a whole lot to look back on. I am not doing anything to rush the end…but it won’t bother me to not wake up tomorrow. If I do, I will enjoy my day. A cup of tea, some nice music, a quick chat with someone like you at the grocery store, or the barber shop…and that is fine with me. I have some folks I write, and even one that I call on the phone. It’s enough.

I do keep the parts of the house I can reach clean and tidy, but now I have a Lady come in once a week to do the heavy stuff. I can’t get down to clean the base of the commode anymore, or scrub the shower stall. I can do the dishes…so I do that. My days are long lazy affairs. No need to fill them with the detritus of every day life in a country where News is on 24 hours.

Nope. I am both peaceful and at peace. Just waiting to die. No need to prove to anyone how much life I am cramming into my life. I am enjoying the ride…and that’s all.”

“But …but…it isn’t right.”

“What isn’t right Lizzy? I should struggle every day of the rest of my life, just to do ordinary things…suffer the indignities of old age, and the loneliness just to appease the feelings of folks half my age. Dying young is a tragedy. Dying when your quality of life is gone…is a gift.”

“I don’t know. You don’t sound depressed. But your words are…scary.”

“I am not depressed. I don’t think I have ever been in even a melancholy mood for more than a few hours. What I am... is prepared to die, but planning to live.”

“I don’t get it.”

He smiled at her once again.

“It’s okay. Most folks don’t. I didn’t until the last few years. I couldn’t wait to live when I was younger. And now, well, I am waiting to die. I have to go now. I plan to sit on my porch when the rain comes later today. I will sip my tea, savor my memories, and wave at the folks driving by. It will be a good day. “

Lizzy watched him walk away. Still spry for his age- he nodded at the people he knew as he pushed his cart out to his car.

She wondered if other old people were waiting to die too. Calm, collected, content…like him.

Just waiting to die.

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