Watching Death

Daily we observe death
We often have no idea what we are really looking at.
Sublime to a man's reckoning.
His repentance, comes during his recompense and acknowledgement of the situation.
He would never tell mere mortals such as "we" the true nature of his situation.
Never would he mention that death is present in the very room we
stand, talking to him.

First we as individuals have to be able to recognize the situation.
What would death look like if we were to really put some consideration
into it. Would death resemble a monster with ghoulish looks and horns?
Or is death really a beautiful voluptuous woman, smelling of pleasures in a magenta two piece bolero suit with nylons with seams of the back of the leg, and  patten leathered black eight inch stilettos, or death could be just a regular looking guy who sits next to him talking about "God" and the nature of life or even animal planet. Maybe death is just some simple person or pleasure that is just inviting him to come go with.

Heretofore, the man we observe, will deny that anything is wrong.
But if this person was your Grandfather, father, uncle, or brother and he
somehow devalued you during their life time. Now they have changed.
They are now willing to negotiate with you, to barter, to trade, to say things
that they wouldn't otherwise say to you.
Actually, you might even say that they had somehow had an epiphany,
they are so loving, and kind.
It would make you as a person wonder? Hmm,
could they be dying, or am I dying and I have no idea.

Subtle bantering,
loving in gestures, you can see a twinkle in their eye,
giving personal possessions that mean more to them
then they would "ever" mean to you.
Today they look fine, they are just acting a bit strange.
No appearance of someone who will be leaving.
Then why do they call out of the blue?
Why did they invite you to their home, when they were
always the Ebenezer of the family.
Hording every dime they have ever made,
Never willing to donate..
Charging you interest....
Silent you have kept your words to yourself.
Yelling in your head when you see them.....
"CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU".

Telephone call after a month,
not again..
Why does he  want a visit?
one month from the date of the last visit,
That was dreadful.
he is thin,
his skin is haggard, it appears supple,
he keeps moisturizing in hopes that you
do notice.
He smiles when he sees you, showing all of
his teeth. But today they look like he
has smeared a white film over them, and
they don't look very good. Its creepy.
Very suspicious. hm mm
His home smells of pungent urine.
He has lit incense to disguise the prolific smell.
Funny, he always complained that you wear too much fragrance.
You become suspicious.

His care provider explains he will not allow me to change his
bed linen. He has been washing his linen himself.
He has been soiling his bed.

Tossing his prepared meals out,
and not holding down food.
He is going down fast.
You notice for the first time a woman.
Sitting in a chair, next to him. When she
sees you looking at her she gets up and excuses herself.
We just didn't know she was here.

Who is the woman in the corner.
A new friend.
She looks so young
the magenta suit,
the stocking with the seams down the back.
The short skirt and bolero jacket.
She just walked out.
Did you let her in.
The provider said she was here when
she arrived.

His conversation is desperate,
speaking in words like " jive",
and that's "hip". Words you have never heard
him say. Reliving moments you never knew.
Hippies, smoking Pot,
drinking, and taking ACID.
Who is this man. What happened to my
Grandfather, Father, Uncle, Brother.
This man must be an impostor,
Grandfather, Father, Uncle, Brother,
was such a tight ass that they would
use the proper name for "Shit".
Now this guy is talking  words that even
I don't know.

Talking about visiting his mother and father
last week. They have been dead for years.
Telling me that we are going to go swimming
down at lake okachobe, which has been turned into
a senior community since I was in my teens.
Who is this man?

Months go by,
and a call at 3am.
Never a good thing.
Its a woman in a soft sexy
alluring voice,
come now, he is actively dying.
Never thought of death as being Active.
The thought made me nauseous.
If you want to say goodbye.
There are no cry's for help,
there are no cry's at all, as he is really alone.
He had no children, he had no wife,
he had not  friends, he only had me and mine to visit him
as he had offended everyone, and I was the only left forgiving enough
to spend his last living lucid moments.

I unconsciously watched death in her
magenta short, skirt, black seamed stockings, eight inch stiletto shoes, and bolero jacket.
She smelled sweet of pleasures, and invited him
to come along with.
When he willingly took her hand,
There were no call for help, no good byes to his love,
He just walked with her admiring her French nail manicure. Which
he initially couldn't see.
Leaving behind his regrets, his things he had worked
his whole life for. The very things he thought would make him
happy but he never learned to enjoy. As he was so worried that someone
would take his things.
He left, and has no need for ...
I was the only person who noticed he was missing,
I was the only person who shed a tear for his passing.
As I watched death,
I recognized her,
initially passively,
and in the end actively.

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens