FIDELITY:
BY George Holmes 3/20/10
They’d been married twenty-two years. Then she was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer. The progress of the illness was rapid. Nurses came and went, the doctor shook his head. Jack did not know what to do. Marie lay there in bed, often in a daze and gazed at him as if she was not quite sure who he was. What was the protocol? What does one do? He’d never been in a situation like this. She was his only wife. She slipped away peacefully one afternoon, Nurse Harrison announcing to the ward sister that Mrs. Weatherby had just died.
He was down in the lower fields attending to a hedge that had been broken by two of his cows that were sick. Cows are large and can be destructive when nervous or ill. His cell phone rang. He let it ring a couple of times.
--Yes, Jack Weatherby.
--Oh Mr. Weatherby, Sister McIntyre here. I have sad news. Mrs. Weatherby passed away half an hour ago. Nurse Harrison who was with her said she smiled as she faded from us and then stopped breathing.
He couldn’t speak but gripped the phone. Suddenly a chasm opened in front of him. All that fidelity, that devotion, that love of twenty-two years suddenly had nowhere to go. It all fell helpless into a vast abyss. It had no direction. Whereas once it had a purpose and a goal, now it did not know where to go and seemed to evaporate, an inchoate unformed mist which disappeared..
--I’ll come to the hospital.
The sister having made calls like this before said
--It’s all right Mr. Weatherby. Your mother and your son are here. Come in when you can.
She knew he was having difficulties adjusting, knowing what to say. Death is always a first for many people. For her, it was a working event and she had been in the informing situation often.
--Thank you Sister.
He stood there. He shut off the phone. He picked up his tools and continued to work on the hedge.
The dead can wait for they have limitless time ,but the living are short of it and demand attention.
