Anne Slanders

The cacophony of city traffic and the continuous stampede of humanity made it nearly impossible to hear anything, let alone my cellphone. Even more frustrating was the woman on the other end speaking in a hushed tone. Perhaps it was my hearing failing me, but unless she was at a church or someone’s wake, there seemed no reason for such veiled conversation. Annoyed, I insisted she speak louder and clearer.

She excused herself from whatever place required such silence and began again. To my dismay, it was my cousin Holly, the daughter of my late mother’s sister. After exchanging pleasantries, she apologized for the news she was about to deliver. David, her younger brother, was now upon his deathbed. Noting my shock, she relayed that he was receiving his last rites. Holly’s voice trembled with grief as she explained that David had some lucid moments, but he made her promise to call me if the end was near. He didn’t want me to witness his suffering, but he requested that I be there for Mollie afterward.

Although quite pleasant, Holly and I were never particularly close, despite exchanging holiday cards over the years. Yet, she knew that David and I, just a year apart, remained steadfast friends throughout our lives. We connected a few times each year through long-distance conversations. In recent years, David had hinted that he was battling something, but he always laughed it off as a mere procedure, sparing me the gory details. Throughout it all, Mollie, his devoted wife, remained a beacon of hope, assuring us that he was on the mend.

Our last conversation took place during the last Christmas holiday season. Through an ever-persistent deep cough, David’s optimism was unwavering, even though he knew of my worry. Always one to inject levity into any situation, he reminded me of the time when we were teenagers and I saved his skull from being cracked wide open. “Do you remember that?” stated David.

Of course I did. The memory was etched into my brain: a simple concept where six of us kids lifted someone lying flat on a table above our heads, using only two fingers from each hand. We had done it with the smaller kids, much to their laughter and delight. But when David wanted his turn, the strain was evident.

Margie’s fingers slipped, and I watched in horror as David’s head hurtled toward the cement floor. Without hesitation, I cupped my hand, catching David’s head and bearing the full weight. My hand was smashed but David was safe and left unscathed.

“Listen,” he said with morbid humor, “if I do kick the bucket, promise you’ll be there to catch me in case – you know – they drop me.” Perturbed yet committed, I agreed.

Now, with Holly providing me with David’s pre-planned wake and funeral arrangements, the enormity of it all sank in. “And where will this be?” I asked.

“Just outside Cheshire, England,” she replied. “No worries about a hotel—you can stay with me.” Without hesitation, I gave her my assurance that I would be there for David, for her and the entire family.

The remainder of my day blurred by without any clear thought process. Later that evening, Mollie called me. Clearly saddened, her raspy voice shared that David was now at peace. “I know Holly offered but I would be honored if you would stay here with me. David had items that he wanted me to share with you.”

Of course, I said yes and provided her my expected arrival. It would be a long flight and my first visit to England, but I fought off apprehension and nervousness. I would be with family.

Suffice to say, I cleared off whatever was on my schedule and made this my number one priority.

I will share more in my next update.

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** The image is a stock photo. It was very overcast when I arrived. **