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COCO SAID
I told him I was all better now, that the trauma to my brain was a trifle and, surely, would have no lasting effect.
Of course, I spoke with some halting, some sputtering. I knew, however, from deep within my slowly wasting body that this useless bravado was a last ditch effort to reassure myself that my state of health had, at most, been only temporarily put in jeopardy. Accustomed to lying to myself and others my entire adult life (as a child I was innocent even of white lies), it seemed only natural that I should tell the one I loved above all others that, truly, I was all right. Where's the harm at this late date?
I got out of my chair with a bit more than the usual difficulty, but he knew better than to run to my aid. Some guys simply cannot ask for help. Pride? Stubbornness? Independence? As I steadied myself upon the narrow arms of my tattered wingback, I made for the picture window. A closing, mournful gaze upon the cottage garden that he and I had toiled upon for so many happy years together. The functions were shutting down on me one by one, and at this particular moment it had to be that of walking. Once so elementary, so simple, so without thought. He caught me from behind, but gently, near imperceptibly to me. Not angry at his diminishing my manly need to do everything on my own, I allowed his strong arms to move me along toward our final stand together.
In silence we looked upon the beautiful park we had created in a joint effort to carry on the work my beloved wife had begun so many years earlier. As I felt the strength of my once vigorous life ebbing away, I sensed his own growing stronger, more vital, notwithstanding the tears running down his cheeks.
It was time to let go, but I had to say it - IT - before it was too late. My mouth wouldn't move. My jaw was locked. We looked into each other's bleary eyes. He knew what mine were saying with words unspoken.
"I love you too, Dad...."
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