John and Lisa's Blue Skies Blog – Soaring with God

Last week, I visited a dying friend at the VA hospice in Hampton.  I noticed a bright sign by the main entrance to the building:  “Smoking Area Only.” I shook my head and pondered about this being a government facility.  The porch held a couple of chairs and a small table with an ashtray full of butts. 

When I went inside and approached the counter, I was told to take a seat in the small lobby.  I spied a pack of Marlboros and a lighter perched on the edge of the counter.  As I sat down, a hard-eyed, gnarly old gentleman in a ball cap pushed a walker past me toward the lobby.  He grabbed the cigarettes and lighter and turned his walker toward the front porch.  I jumped up and opened the door for him.  I wanted to be helpful, yet I wasn’t eager to see him smoke himself to death.

I asked at the counter when I could see my friend, Ron.  A woman snapped, “We’re cleaning him up right now.” I returned to my seat and observed the old man out the window smoking and looking at the river. I waited a little longer, then finally I was told I could see my friend.

Ron was lying there in a coma, very thin, his breath a death rattle.  His girlfriend/ caregiver said he had been unconscious for the last twenty-four hours.  She and I chatted briefly, sharing memories of him.  I held his hand while she went to take a shower.  I thanked Ron for helping me through some difficult times and helping me learn to be a better listener.  We’d had so many conversations over the years; talking of things men talk about when talking to other men.  I don’t know if he knew I was there or not.

When his girlfriend returned, we talked some more about the life Ron had lived and his many friends.  When I left, the old man on the porch was gone.  The river was still there.