ALL THAT MATTERED

When I drove into his long, winding, pearl chat driveway, the multicolored crepe myrtles, hollyhock and purple flocks were waving in the early July heat and breeze.  His ducks and geese were dunking for food below the pond's surface.

I found myself wondering what kind of mood Tom would be in that day.  I took a deep breath and began mustering up courage to welcome his crankiness or his cleverness, whatever he would pitch my way.

He'd admitted to me out loud, more than once, that he was not happy about 'checking out' yet. "I need more time to come to grips with this!" he said on my previous visit.

I prayed while gathering my supplies to do wound care on the chest lesion from lung cancer that refused to stay in his chest.  When I knocked on the back screen door that entered into their utility room, he yelled out, "Why do you always knock? Come on in! And let Tom Cat out in the process."

His wife passed away the year before so he had been living alone until he came home from the hospital. His sister from Kansas came to stay with him until he regained some strength, or not.  I'm not too sure either one of them was tremendously fond of the other, but for now, it was working out to help keep him home.

Lou Ellen was in the kitchen making coffee and biscuits and gravy in case this is a day he'll eat a bite. She nodded  and offered coffee and returned to her sanctuary in the tiny kitchen.

I approached his bed with caution.  "Good Morning, Tom! How's that new pain med working for you?"

"It's actually helping and I appreciate it.  Taking the edge off that pain makes me less cranky...I haven't yelled at Lou Ellie (his name for her) in over an hour."

"Set your stuff down on that recliner," he continued, "and don't rush me this morning.  I'm enjoying watching those geese and ducks splash around in the pond.  Did you happen to see them on your way in?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," I answered while pulling up a chair where we could hear each other better.

The 'air' is different today, and I can tell we've entered some new territory.

He eyeballs me carefully, "What are you doing here?' he asked with all sincerity.

"What do you mean?  Like my cleaning and redressing your chest wound? Or checking on your pain control? Or..."

"No! I mean what are you doing here, in life, on Earth, with your time. And your space."

"Hold that thought! I changed my mind.  I'm getting that cup of coffee from Lou Ellen.  And while I'm fetching it, keep talking to me.  What are you really asking me?" I said while retrieving the coffee from his sister who was around the corner listening; she had already poured me a cup!

"Well, I've been trying to do a little introspection about how I've taken up space here, how good a steward I've been with my time allotment, my talents or skills, my money, and such," he answered as he scratched his chin.

"I'm dying and I'm sorry I haven't done a better job.  I let bitterness set in when my wife died last year and I've wasted good light in a day.  I could have been helping out at the church she loved so much, or given some money to that schoolhouse where she volunteered, or to that dang animal shelter where she carried in dog food and the like. That's where we got ole' Tom Cat.

"And you see this all the time, and I was wondering if all you do is work.  When I was your age, I thought that was all that mattered: make a dollar, save a dollar.  Okay, that's enough talking. Let's get this bandage off."

And that was all he said about that ever again.  That was in the 1980's.  I didn't fully appreciate it then.

 I was too busy working!