December 24th, 2075
The otherwise dark and grey hospital room was lit up by tiny twinkling lights that hung from the Christmas tree sitting in the corner. Strands of homemade cards lined the ceiling. Pictures of children and grandchildren lay upon the tables. Flowers were placed by his bed. This man was surrounded by love. It only seemed fitting to me that this be the way he checked out, surrounded by love, since that’s what he spent his whole life giving away to others. And how I loved this man. How it heart my hurt to see him like this now. I slowly removed my coat, hat, and gloves careful not to make any noise, even though I knew that had I done so he would still not wake up. I crept over to sit in the chair beside his bed. It was still warm from whatever body sat there before me. Probably someone who also loved him, someone who had sat in this very chair and cried for him for hours just moments before I arrived. Someone who mourned for him. It made me happy to know he was loved fully and completely after our time together ended.
His hand felt cold and wrinkly as I placed it in between mine. It was strange to me holding his old, wrinkly hand, for it was so different than the one I had so vividly remembered holding all those years ago. I studied the lines and the creases that ran about it, proof that it had been through a long, hard-working, and good life. I then looked down at my own hands, wrinkled and weathered in the same ways. It was astounding to me all of the years we had let pass before us. Right there, sitting in that hospital room I wished nothing more than for the years to come back to us, for us to be young again. And hardly a moment passed before I realized just how foolish my wishing had been. The years had been good to the both of us. We led full and happy lives with love and laughter, this I knew to be true from the various times we would talk over the phone throughout our years. I would hear his wife cooking and his children laughing in the background and my heart would be warmed knowing that he was good. That’s all I ever wanted.
I felt a tear slip down my cheek as I watched his heart rise slowly in his chest, knowing that these beats were among his last. And what a good heart it was. I tried to prepare myself for when that moment would come. My body froze as I realized there was no such thing as preparation. How do you prepare yourself for saying goodbye to your soul mate? How do you prepare yourself for losing a half of your heart? How do you prepare yourself for a part of you, a distinct and unwavering part of you to die? It seems as though you can’t. Tears began to readily flow as my mind took a trip down memory lane. I tried to remember the last time I saw him. I believe we were both 20 years old. It was August and our last month we would ever spend together at Sunset Lake. We spent nights sleeping beneath the stars and days singing by the water. We would swim in the rain and we would kiss in the grass. We would dance on the kitchen tiles as dinner was cooking and we would laugh when there was nothing else to do. Three months was all it took for us to fall completely and madly in love. There is no feeling in this world more exhilarating than meeting your soul mate. Discovering the other half of you, discovering the person they make you. And yet with this feeling fresh in our hearts, we knew that it would not work. He was headed off to the music academy at the end of the summer and I too headed off to Paris for a year of studying abroad. With loving intentions we let each other move on without letting each other go.
My remembering was suddenly interrupted a quiet knock. I turned around to find a middle aged woman standing in the doorway with a coffee in her hand. She had short blonde hair and blue eyes that were drooping with exhaustion and moist with sadness. Her lips curled into a sweet smile as she saw me sitting there.
“You must be Danny’s daughter, I am terribly sor” before I could finish the woman pulled me in for a soft embrace.
“Thanks for visiting. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he appreciates all these visitors. How did you know my dad?” Her voice sounded strangely like her father’s, sweet and poetic. Almost song-like.
“Oh, me and your father are old friends. He was a very, very good friend to me.”
“He is a sweet man isn’t he? I’m sorry how rude of me, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Winnie Baker, I am Danny’s oldest daughter.”
My heart stopped. Suddenly I could not find air to breathe. The room started to spin and I felt the tears begin to fall. Only more now, and faster.
The woman was clearly caught off guard. “Oh my, are you okay? Can I get you some water?” She said. The sadness on her face suddenly replaced with worry.
I mustered up the courage to speak, “Oh dear, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just must get going now. Please forgive me.” I walked over to his bedside and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.” I whispered. And with that I began to move for the door.
“Merry Christmas!” I heard his daughter yell as I exited, the confusion apparent in her voice. I wanted to say it back, for she was such a sweet woman, but I just could not find a way.
I attempted to wipe away the tears and as I made my way down he hallway to the waiting room. Nurses dressed in holiday scrubs shot me looks of sympathy on my way. Oh how I wish they knew what these tears were really for. As I approached the waiting room I smiled when I saw my husband sitting in the exact chair that left him in some 45 minutes ago. He smiled too when he saw me. And there he was, my other great love. My husband of 50 years, my partner in life, the father to my 5 children, the grandfather to my 13, the love of my life. No, he was not my soul mate. My soul mate was lying in room 315 dying. No Steven was not the man who’s my heart fit with exactly, like two pieces of a puzzle. Steven and I are were not perfect. But we loved each other so deeply that it did not matter. He got up and walked over me and embraced me in a hug.
“How is he sweetie?” He asked as he kissed my forehead. Steven knew all about Danny. Never once was he threatened by the idea of him. Steven was a godly man like that. In the beginning I often thought about what my life would have been like had I lived it with Danny and not Steven. Danny and I were so selfishly compatible that our lives together would have been just us. We would have traveled the world and played music and wrote books and we never would have had time to create something outside of us. I was not meant to be with Danny, he was my soul mate, but he was not the one. I created a life with Steven, full of problems, fights, children, laughter, and love because we were individually unique and together complete. Looking into my loving husband’s eyes in that waiting rom I realized I would not have it any other way.
“He will be gone soon. But he led a happy life. And I am so glad I was able to say goodbye. Let’s go home dear.”
He took my hand, “Let’s go home Winnie.” And with that we began to walk. Somewhere in the distance I heard a clock tower stick midnight, and with that we walked through the doors into the Christmas night.
