The Man He Was

Photo by Derick McKinney on Unsplash

On a normal Wednesday afternoon, they went with their daughter, her 40th birthday in fact, to the hospital. The biopsy results showed a malignant, somewhat advanced, lung tumour, inoperable and untreatable. The only option being radiotherapy to shrink the tumour, perhaps alleviate the crippling pain he was in. Maybe, if they were very lucky, extend his life for a little longer.

They left the room in silence, sitting down in the main waiting area. Waves of brutal truth crashing into them. He was quiet, head lowered, cavernous crevices of pain cutting across his brow. His usually strong frame, crumpled in the chair. He closed his eyes. His wife of almost fifty years looked around, her beautiful dark eyes darting across the room, filling up, despite her efforts at composure. He had proposed to her on their first date. She was trembling with anxiety.

He opened his piercing, bright blue eyes, noticing her expression. Deep worry and fear etched across her still youthful face. Slowly, and with some effort, he lifted his hand to his own face and smiled. Slowly, he purposefully drew his hand across his mouth, reached out to her, and gently placed his big rough palm over her soft, quivering lips. ‘What was that for?” she whispered, her voice breaking. He replied “they say that if you see someone without a smile. you should give them one of your own”. Twenty-eight days later, he was gone…

This is the man he was.