Page 69 - Dark Matter Issue5 Part II

concerned about her lack of support and wanted to help in any way that I could.

Deeply saddened, I went for another visit. I took her out to lunch. Dale sat across from

me, pale and barely eating. I began to cry. “Dale, I feel so bad that I didn’t find you

years earlier. We’ve missed so many years together. I just found you again; I don’t want

to lose you.” “But you did find me”, she said. She sighed, and reached across the table

to pat my hand. “It’s okay, I’m not afraid to die now. I know now that I did at least one

good thing in my life. Just look at you.” We sat in loving stillness gazing at each other.

Several moments later she continued, “I hardly went to school and you went to college

and kept going. It’s like a ripple that keeps going out. I helped you and now you are

helping so many more. It’s okay,” She squeezed my hand, tears sparkling at the corners

of her eyes. As I had done as a child, I reached out and brought one of those precious

tears to my lips.

Over the next several months, I visited her as often as I could. On the last of those trips

she was in the hospital, where she seemed too sick to talk. She reached for me as I

stood to leave. “If I really needed you, would you come?” I gulped back tears, “Of

course I’d come, Dale.” I held her frail body tightly and kissed her on the cheek before I

left.

One night weeks later, I dreamed Dale was calling for me over and over again. I woke

around 5:00 a.m. remembering her words, “If I really needed you, would you come?” I

reached for the phone and dialed the hospital where she had been undergoing palliative

radiation treatment. The nurse informed me that Dale was actively dying and wasn’t

likely to make it through the day. “She is expressing a lot of fear of dying alone. Her son

wasn’t willing to come and I haven’t been able to find any other family. I’d do a double

shift if I could, but am leaving today on a long-awaited family vacation. We’re short

staffed and she isn’t likely to get much attention.” “Please tell her I’m coming,” I said, “I’ll

catch the next plane.” I booked a seat on the next flight to Chicago.

I arrived at the hospital around noon. Approaching her bed, I said, “Dale, I heard you

calling me, I came as fast as I could.” She nodded and weakly squeezed my hand as