In her final days, Julia spent her time in a hospital room. The plain white room was cold and dull. It made her feel even weaker and more depressed than she already was. She was ready to let go.
Harold, however, was not. He knew it was a lost cause, but Julia would watch as he paced around the hospital room, as if the answer to pancreatic cancer would appear in his mind if he walked long and hard enough. Harold could not give up. He could not lose his wife. He could not lose his best friend.
Near the end, Julia could barely lift her head, and it became harder and harder to breathe. There was, however, a restlessness in her eyes – as if she wanted one last adventure. Harold could remember how she clasped his hand that fateful day. Her grip was feeble, but he could swear he felt her heart beating more fervently than it had for a long time. Her eyes didn't flutter, but they still had a sparkle to them that made Harold weak in the knees. She struggled to speak, but managed to whisper a word - "Home."
"We can't go home. They need you here. They need to take care of you. If I take you home..." Harold said. His eyes were filled with tears. He tried desperately to hold the tears back, but he feared that at any minute the stone-like seal he prided himself on would crumble into ruins.
With all the effort she could muster, Julia held his hand tighter and muttered one last time, "Home."
Harold wasn't sure, but when he looked into her eyes, he could feel her telling him that everything would be okay. With so much certainty, her eyes pleaded for him to let her go. "I'll see what I can do," he replied. He squeezed Julia's hand and went off to find the doctors to plead his case.
After much deliberation with the physicians, Harold managed to be persistent enough to convince them to release Julia. He was scared. He knew there would be no trip back to the hospital. That this drive home was the last journey the two of them would ever take together. This was their end. No ever after.
When they arrived home, Harold carried Julia into the family room and placed her in his favourite lavender chair. He wanted to make Julia as comfortable as possible, but he couldn't imagine that his chair was sufficient. Despite this, Harold watched as the corners of her lips curled into her usual grin. And for just a moment, they were the way they had been for over thirty years. Harold exhaled a sigh, pulled up a chair beside her, and wrapped his arms around her.
Julia whispered one last word to Harold. "Play."
Harold looked down at Julia, whose eyes were closed, but her grin remained. Harold nodded to himself, acknowledging the request. He quietly strode over to the piano, his head looking down at the floor in front of him the entire time. He placed his hands on the keys. They shook uncontrollably. He struggled to breathe. He knew that if Julia could speak right now, she would tell him to slow down. He waited for her hand to press against his back, soothing him back to a relaxed state. That comfort never came. He closed his eyes and slowly opened them, then turned his head to take one last look at Julia. She looked at ease. It was the most comfortable she had looked in quite some time. She sat curled up on the chair, her eyes drifting into sleep with her smile still intact. Harold took a deep breath, placed his hands against the piano, and began to play Julia's song.
I'll love you tonight.
I'll love you tonight.
But I can't promise you life.
And you'll be alright.
We'll be alright.
So let's just love tonight.
The song finished, and no sooner did Julia fall asleep for the last time.
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Death and Tea at Three
Ficção GeralSince Julia's passing, Harold had been feeling like he didn't have much to live for. He's a retired music teacher with no wife, no children, no purpose. He's not suicidal - in fact, as much as he is ready to die, the thought of taking his own life s...