Last Kiss

The last hope wooshed from my body with force as the doctor explained that there was nothing more that they could do for him. His mind had already gone and what was left was no more than a body, barely warm and that was mostly from blankets and a small fever. I sagged with the loss of collected prayers and wishes over the past week as I went to be by his side. I reached out with a wrinkled hand, liver spots coating my once flawless skin.

What I would do to be eighteen again, to be the girl with the long brown hair that blew in my face in his cherry red convertible. What I would do to see his unblemished face, grinning like the Chessire cat, his voice deep and husky without the ravages of disease. I hold his clammy hand and want to break down and cry. He looks through barely open eyes at me, his breathing slowing so much that I’m scared it’s too late.

I sing to him, tell him stories, and relive memories the next couple of hours.

“How did we meet?” His voice is so weak, but clear even through deafened ears. He finds his last strength to spend time with me.

“You don’t remember?” I’m a bit astonished though I shouldn’t be, the cancer treatments eat through his memory with the precision of a piranha.

He shakes his head and winces as the pain limits his mobility.

I sigh.

“Long ago in a kingdom not so far away, there lived a gentleman. A gentleman of only eighteen with incredibly loud roommates… so loud that he had to go to the library to study. In the middle of this studying, a young lady would happen to go by him. He stopped his studying immediately when he saw her. She was beautiful. Long brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, and he would later tell her that she had legs for days and could stop traffic. Not only because of her beauty, but that she would demand it. She had a strength about her that told everyone to stay away. He ignored the warning. Was he an idiot? Only the Lord knows, but our gentleman was in love…”

I stop for a moment to breathe as he is transfixed by my story. My heart warms and my eyes water, but I keep on…

“He asks her on a date which she reluctantly accepts. After all, what weirdo asks someone out in a library? Anyways, they go on a date and it is a disaster. The restaurant takes an hour to seat them, the food feels like it takes longer, and the poor waiter is just buried. They run out of conversation topics five minutes in and sit in awkward silence. But the woman is patient which isn’t her usual style. She looks over at the gentleman and just smiles at him. He is besotted and suddenly the time doesn’t seem to go so slow. He walks her to her apartment… and gives her a hug. Yes, our gentleman is so nervous that he doesn’t kiss the girl on the first date. He calls her the day after and the day after and the day after and they talk for hours. By their second date, they know more about each other than most of their lifelong friends and family.”

Another breath is needed as my lungs aren’t what they used to be. I remember the days when I could hold my breath for minutes, not what feels like seconds now. I did yoga and ran, but these days it’s a struggle to get up in the morning and go downstairs for a coffee.

“Their second date is a nice picnic in the park. She makes his favorite things: tuna salad sandwich, fresh pomegranates, and fresh squeezed grapefruit juice in a glass carafe.Yes, those are what those glass juice jars are called.You taught me that, our gentleman. But ants crash the picnic, carrying off his favorite foods. Then it starts to rain even though the forecast never called for rain. Supposed to be sunny and sixty.”

I paused to laugh at this, I remember the day like it’s yesterday. I was so mad, but the whole time he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

“It’s pouring and the woman is trying to get everything off the ground and into the car when he takes the stuff from her and puts it in the car. When her hands are empty, he holds them and kisses them. Then he takes her by the waist..”

I’m sobbing.

“I want to hear the rest,” he rasps.

“They are inseparable from that point on and they have the classic love story. They buy a beautiful house and have kids and a dog. The dog dies though and the kids grow older and they still stay together. Through the best and worst times. Even when he gets sick…”

“What does he have?” He asks, looking up at me with innocent eyes. Like this really is someone else’s story and not his last few decades. Does he remember anything about me? But I know the answer, I know the pain in his eyes is now hidden by curiosity. But it’s there, it’s all there. This disease is eating him from the inside out and he just wants a happy ending for the man in the story. I can give him that.

“He has a cold, but he feels better and they have a great life. Happily ever after…”

He smiles that same smile from the library. The same smile from our wedding day, the birth of our kids, every morning waking up to another day. He never took anything from his life for granted. He had a roof over his head and food on the table. He taught the kids and me the same and if we did complain, he would listen. He would still love us even if he didn’t agree with any of the complaints. I watch that same smile slowly fade. He looks tired so I hold his hand, rubbing his hand the way I know he likes. His eyes drift, blinking rapidly as he falls into a deep sleep. I kiss his lips and he hums in response.

It’s not long that we stay in the room before his breathing stops. While my own hitches, I know he’s out of pain. It’s the circle of life and grief, as encumbering as it is, never replaces the days we spent together. The days of love and caring, of arguing and aggravation. It was all worth it to be the last thing he saw.

To share the story of our first kiss and to have the story of our last kiss.