Old Age: A Short Story

Old Jim was old. That's why he was called Old Jim after all. No one even knew if his real name was Jim. He picked it up so long ago, no one had ever asked if it was real. Old Jim was blind. He carried around a cane, but in his small town, he didn't really need it. He knew where everything was in the town and modernization hadn't quite reached his neck of the woods, so there was no risk of things changing on him. Old Jim was blind. When it first happened, he went to his doctor. But the doctor didn't know why Old Jim lost his eye sight. No one did. Old Jim went to every doctor in town, specialists, psychologists, hypnotists-- but no one had an explanation. Old Jim was so old and so wise that at some point he gave up explaining it scientifically. In his wisdom, he just figured he had seen enough for one life time. His eyes were tired of seeing what they had seen for so many years. So they just gave up. Soon other body parts started giving up on poor Old Jim. His right hand shook, probably, he thought, because of so many years of ringing peoples hands at introductions. Old Jim knew everyone. And at every introduction he would shake hands with them, when he was younger it was a firm shake, but now his hand would quake. He just chocked it off to his hand having met enough hands. His voice went last, first it was just raspier but at some point it shriveled like a leaf in fall. Old Jim knew that he had seen too much, met too many people, and said too many things for his lifetime. So Old Jim spent his days walking down the street, slowly, so slowly. He held his cane in his shaky right hand and trod down the street. Like a land turtle, so slow.

Glen and Gladys were both 80 years old. They had been married for 50 years. They had no kids and no retirement plan. They lived in a one bedroom apartment. They had no money and no one to take care of them. Gladys ironed shirts for a few dollars an hour at a local dry cleaners. Glen didn't work. He spent most of his time in the park. He fed the birds crumbs from the last night's dinner. Glen and Gladys were happy, in a way. 50 years with one person changes you. They probably loved each other. Most people admitted it was unclear. Glen loved saying during times of hardship, "Life doesn't always turn out the way it's supposed to", to which Gladys said unfailingly, "No kidding. I married YOU." But everyday, when Gladys came home from the dry cleaners, her body sore from standing all day, Glen would stand up and wrap is wrinkly old arms around her and hold her. And when they parted, Glen would brush Gladys' wispy hair out of her face and kiss her forehead. Gladys was about a foot and a half shorter than Glen and Glen had reached an age where it took much effort to bend over and kiss her on the mouth. The forehead was the closest he could get. Gladys didn't mind. Everyday she would walk home and pray that Glen could still bend enough to kiss her on the forehead. Glen never noticed, but everyday Gladys would stand on her tippy-toes for her forehead kiss. It was her favorite part of the day.

Rachel was a widow. Her husband had died 15 years ago from cancer. She had two children, two daughters, who visited her for dinner every Sunday. Rachel was happy enough but she was lonely. On the 15th anniversary of her husbands death Rachel decided to get a cat. She knew that she didn't want to be an eccentric cat lady, so she limited herself to one. The cat was named Marv, after her late husband. She talked to Marv like he was human. Marv would follow her around the house, twisting through her legs as she cleaned and did her daily routine. Rachel recognized that when she was younger she never had enough time for anything. Now that she was older she had plenty of time and she loved every minute of it. And she spent every minute with Marv trailing behind her. Rachel's daughters both recognized how happy she was now that she had Marv the cat. They came every Sunday and Rachel would hum and talk to Marv and bustle around more than they had seen her do in ages. One day Rachel noticed Marv wasn't following her around as she performed her daily tasks. He just sat on the couch. This startled Rachel and she went over to the couch and sat down, right next to Marv. The two sat like this, so still for hours. Hours and hours went by, until it became a day, and then two, and then several. Just Rachel and Marv sitting next to each other. Rachel thought about human things, and Marv about cat things. They kept sitting next to each other. Rachel put her hand out towards Marv on the couch. And Marv put his paw on her hand. And Rachel sat back on the couch and Marv lay down on her lap. Rachel closed her eyes and Marv did too. And the two of them sat silently with their eyes closed. When Rachel's daughters arrived the next Sunday Rachel and Marv had been dead for sometime. They passed away quietly, like summer clouds, without a storm. And it was noticed by the younger daughter that both of them seemed to be smiling.

Pete decided that he needed to pay his respects. He told his nurse that he had somewhere to go today. The nurse was startled. Pete hadn't left his bed for years, since his stroke. But he was adamant. A dear friend had passed away, he said. He needed to see the service. He needed to say goodbye. The nurse got a wheelchair and prepared to get Pete to the funeral home. Pete was not an easy man to deal with. He was very particular. He needed his meals made fresh. He never ate food out of a can, freezer or plastic wrapper-- it was unnatural. "There's so much unnatural stuff in this world, food should not be one of them". Pete didn't go to any of the nursing home events, saying that he didn't belong with those grandpas. An interesting thing for a man with no hair, limited mobility, and a bedpan to say. He especially hated the doctors and nurses. They fussed over him and he hated a fuss. But this nurse was different. She recognized Pete as a human, not as a dying blob on a bed. And that's why Pete put up with her. Pete told this nurse that he was desperate to go to the service and there was something in his eyes that told the nurse that this was important. More important than canned food or those grandpas or annoying nurses. So she grabbed Pete, a wheel chair, a sandwich for Pete, and jammed them in her small two door compact car and drove him personally to the funeral home. When Pete arrived he recognized two middle aged women standing outside talking in hushed voices. When they saw the nurse and the old man arrive they helped Pete out of the car and into his wheel chair and rolled him up the disabled ramp. Pete was put in the front row of fold-able chairs. Pete was the first person there. He sat patiently for the other mourners. Patience was something he had aquired at the nursing home. Sitting in his bed all day, Pete learned not to be impatient. All would come eventually. Soon people trickled in. Mostly people his age, and a lot of them he didn't recognize. Then an old blind man stumbled in, his cane shaking in his hand. Pete recognized him as Jameson from years ago. He called to the old man and the old man shuffled over to Pete's wheelchair. He sat down and put his shaky right hand comfortingly on Pete's shoulder not saying a word. Next came an old couple, an odd pair standing together as the man was significantly taller than the woman. They saw Pete and Old Jim and came to sit with them. They whispered to each other. As the service started, the four friends stood silently together. Nothing really needed to be said. At the end of the service all the guests could walk past the open casket and say their personal goodbye. The nurse rolled Pete to the opening and for the first time since his stroke, Pete stood and got a good look at his old friend Rachel. Startled, the nurse took a step back as this miracle unfolded. Pete whispered, "I always loved you, your son of a bitch husband just got to you first," and sat back down in his wheel chair to be wheeled away. Next was Glen and Gladys. They stood, holding hands and wept softly over Rachel's too calm face. Then, mustering all he could, Glen kissed Gladys on the lips. He didn't know how much longer they had together, so he promised he would put in the effort to kiss her properly everyday. Last was Old Jim. He left everyone go ahead of him. He was wise enough not to rush anything anymore. And when he reached the casket, he put a shaky hand on the finished wood and blinked. And as he blinked he momentarily could see Rachel's face. And he thought, my eye's needed to see this. And raspily said, "Goodbye old friend".