95 Years Old

Gramps couldn’t handle being alone. His entire adult life had been filled  with people he loved. His parents were already in  heaven. Most people, in fact, had already left for a better place. He hated that he was still living. He was 95 today. A birthday that should be celebrated; but instead brought tears.

Eva,  his wife had died of cancer and had been buried five years ago. Since then, the friends and family he had back then had tried spending as much time with him as possible; taking away that void in  his life.

After several months had passed, some people even tried setting him up on blind dates. He thought that was the most despicable thing he had ever heard of. Why would some fool want him to forget all about his Eva.

He refused, their offers and under his breath, told them what he thought. Every  night, he laid down next to that empty spot on the bed. This was one place that just about killed him. This bed has shared many moments of passion, talking, and allowing of kids to sleep between the middle of them.

He would roll towards the empty spot and pull her pillow close to him. He inhaled as deep as he could trying to draw the scent of her hair. It was empty, everything was empty. His life, he felt was over.

There was no reason to live. There was no one to live for. He sat at his kitchen table drinking his last cup of coffee. He wheeled himself to the bathroom.  He stared at his hand mirror, and saw jumbo tears ready to fall.

Why, why did she have to go? He wasn’t ready to let her go. She never asked if she could go. 95 years old today, and no one knew. No one sent a card, no cake or ice-cream. He reached into the nightstand drawer.

He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. On the paper he scribbled, I am ready Eva, I’m coming home. Laying it down on Eva’s pillow, he swallowed the pills he had laid out. He lay on  his bed, waiting to leave.



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