I love round numbers. Truthfully, I probably only held out this long so I
could reach my hundredth year. Tomorrow is my birthday, and when that clock
strikes zero, I plan to die. Where I live, the new year begins in the middle
of the day, so my family is here to celebrate with me. They didn’t have to
do that for me, squeeze into my nursing home room. I’m sure the younger ones
would rather be at a party, and the older ones are too exhausted to spend
this much time out of the house. I appreciate it, but I worry about how
awkward it’s going to be when I pass. Only my youngest grandson knows what’s
going to happen. He’s only six, but he’s so smart. He doesn’t think I’ll be
able to pull it off, so I bet him a hundred dollars. He pointed out that he
won’t be able to pay me if I end up being right, but it wouldn’t matter
anyway. I don’t need money where I’m going, and I’m going soon, whether it’s
at exactly 0:00, or not. He’s going to get a hundred bucks out of this, and
it will teach him to focus his attention on safe bets. That’s the kind of
lesson I’ve always tried to teach my kids. You don’t have to worry about
what’s going to happen in the future if you rig it in your favor. Don’t play
it safe, or you won’t get anywhere, but have an ace up your sleeve at all
times. Don’t let others stack the deck against you. I’ve been unresponsive
for a few hours now, but what my family doesn’t know is that I can still
hear everything they’re saying. They’re talking about me, of course, and not
even watching the clock. The elders are sharing stories with the youngsters.
Man, I had a fun life, and I die here with no regrets. My son is talking
about how I taught him how to get the job he wanted by basically not taking
no for an answer. He snorts as he laughs. That’s not how it works anymore.
Employers don’t like pushy people. Anyway, it worked for him in the 1960s,
and he’s where he is now because of it.
They don’t notice when I pass at precisely when I meant to. My grandson
positioned himself next to my vitals machine. I told you he was smart. So
alarms don’t go off, he sneakily switches the little device on my finger to
his own. It just keeps measuring, thinking that he’s me. He places his
finger against my neck, waiting for a pulse that never comes. Still he tells
no one. He lets them tell their stories, blissfully unaware that I’m gone.
His parents think it’s so sweet that he’s holding my hand, but he’s really
only doing it to maintain the lie. I taught him well, I tell you. They
continue to tell stories for another thirty minutes until the nurse comes
back in to confirm what she suspected. Grandson doesn’t apologize. He says
he wanted the family to enjoy the beginning of the new year, at least for a
little bit. The nurse leaves to begin the process. Meanwhile, my family
decides that he’s right, or maybe they don’t want to argue about it. I was
old and it was my time. There are some tears, even from those I wouldn’t
have thought would produce them on this occasion, or didn’t think they would
themselves. They keep going with the stories, though, trying to keep it
light for the younglings. They know what’s going on, and the adults want
them to feel comfortable with death, rather than being afraid of it. It
takes a long time to get my body out of the room. My son’s wife is relieved.
This kind of behavior would not have been tolerated on her side of the
family. Death is something to be feared and ignored. She felt it was
disrespectful for them to stay in here with a dead body. She tried to stay
quiet, but everyone felt her disappointment. Me, I’m happy. I’m so happy
that they stayed with me after I was gone. I felt so loved in the end.
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