Maurice's Final Sleep

At the end of his life, Maurice Ludwig rocked on a pink chair swing to watch the sunset. It was the same sunset view he shared with his wife of 52 years. The warm glow touched the crow’s feet wrinkles around his eyes and heating the point of his nose. Hairless on his head, Maurice let the setting sun coat his face from top to bottom. Something in his soul knew he was feeling the warmth of life one last time. The sun slipped under the horizon, for his final time – and though the sun would rise tomorrow, Maurice knew he wouldn’t.

He gripped the side of the pink chair swing, shaking the chains as he found his balance, and turned in place slowly to face the porch screen door. Maurice entered inside and hung his leather jacket on the coat hanger beside the window. He limped down the hall, turning off each light in the house along the way, as he walked into the bedroom.

After he had gotten ready for bed, Maurice squat above his bed and dropped, bouncing slightly as he landed on the foam mattress. He reached to his left and held a picture frame. It was of him and Dorothy, only a few years ago. She had passed away a month ago; to Maurice, depending on the day, it felt like she had only left yesterday. Other days it felt as if he had been grieving his whole life. He caressed the picture of her face gently, longing to be with her. Maurice replaced the frame on the nightstand and then lifted the bed covers over himself as he slid into his bed. He extended his arm and pulled the string under the lamp to enter his final sleep.

In the dark room, Maurice thought over his life, all 89 years of it. He started back when he was a boy and how he loved baseball. He played for many years and loved going to games and watching his parents cheer him on. He recalled how desperately he wanted to be a ball player. Maurice smiled to himself realizing how ambitious he was a boy. He thought about the friends he made in school and the movies he snuck into on dates with cute girls because he not only couldn’t afford the tickets but also hadn’t told his parents that he was on a date. Maurice chuckled at how often he snuck out to go on date that ultimately ended shortly after the movie they watched.

He thought further ahead to when he finally met Dorothy at a church group for young, singles. He attended solely to find a wife; Dorothy attended for more mature reasons. He spotted Dorothy and immediately knew she was the one. Dorothy said that when she saw Maurice, she considered leaving the church. Fortunately for Maurice’s notorious stubbornness, he perused Dorothy until he won her over – this time he could afford movie tickets, and he didn’t have to worry if his parents knew about this date. He remembered fondly how she wore a green dress with orange heels and had made herself up to look beautiful; he knew in that moment he had lucked out, and for the first time he didn’t believe he deserved his date. They were kind to each other on their date, quickly getting along and laughing at the silly jokes they made in the theater. Maurice thought to himself how wonderfully lucky he was to not have screwed it up back then.

Within a year they were engaged, to which everyone admitted they knew from the start the two were meant for each other. They had a small wedding on August 13th, 1967 because Dorothy insisted they had a fall wedding. She loved when the leaves turned and she thought it would be wonderful to be surrounded by autumn trees as they said their vows. The wedding was horribly behind schedule, chaotic, disastrous, and beautiful – just as they expected.

It was only two years before they had their first born, Christopher, who grew up to be a radio host for a local station in the Midwest. It never mattered to Maurice what Christopher chose to be, so long as he did his best. Christopher was their only child, which was a hard pill to swallow for him and Dorothy. They longed for many children together but unfortunately they weren’t able to conceive again. It made Maurice and Dorothy’s love for Christopher grow that much more.

When Christopher was born Maurice was, by all means, unqualified to be a parent, especially compared to Dorothy, who raised and nurtured Christopher like it was her God given gift to be a mother. It took several months for Maurice to get the hang of changing diapers; and just as he felt he had mastered it, Christopher was growing up before his very eyes, suddenly crawling across the carpet in their living room. And just as Maurice felt Christopher had mastered crawling, Christopher was running in the backyard with his friends. It often startled Maurice how quickly his only child grew up, scaring him that he wouldn’t have enough time to be with his boy.

Maurice remembered how extremely difficult it was – far more difficult than he thought – when Christopher moved out, leaving him and Dorothy empty nesters. Tears shed as they forced themselves to say good-bye. There were phone calls daily, which turned into weekly, then bi-weekly, and then perhaps only once a month if that. Christopher had moved on and found his own girl, Trixie. She was vibrant and outgoing, and full of life. Maurice and Dorothy thought Trixie was delightful when they met.

Within a few years of Christopher and Trixie meeting, they had their first born, Jackson, followed by Elsa, Freddy, and Patricia. It overwhelmed Maurice and Dorothy with joy that not only did Christopher have more than one child but a mix of boys and girls. Even more than that, he had blessed them with grandchildren.

Shortly after his fourth grandchild was born, Maurice was diagnosed with a prostate cancer. He felt unbearable sorrow thinking he wouldn’t see his grandchildren grow up, and it pained him ever more seeing how despair had tormented Dorothy, wondering if her husband was going to die suddenly. Christopher and Trixie graciously brought their children over weekly to spend time with him, offering them a chance to make memories with their Grandpa before he passed away. Maurice remembered standing in his driveway with Christopher, confessing his fears from the disease. He was amazed how strong his son was, encouraging him to have faith and believe they will all get through this together.

It felt like to Maurice that as soon as his son said that the cancer was gone. His family rejoiced, Dorothy uncorked her bottled emotions, crying for several minutes now that she didn’t have to be strong anymore for the both of them. Life went on happily.

Maurice recalled how fragile and short life had become in that time, wondering if there was anything he could’ve had done different during that season with his cancer. But he decided that he was truly grateful for that season because he became closer than ever to his family from it.

Dorothy fell ill decades later, which brought Maurice in his memory up to a month ago. She was weak and frail, unable to complete basic tasks. She knew it was her time. It was the hardest day of Maurice’s life. When he married her, he never imagined the pain of losing her. It seemed so far away when they said their I-dos, but the day had already come. He never left her side while she lay in bed, he never left the house. He held her hand and continued to whisper how much he loved her and how precious she was to him. She smiled sweetly, caressing his face gently, and she fell asleep for the last time.

Maurice thought over his life and saw it was a good one. He chose not the dwell on the mistakes or faults of his life but celebrate the joys and accomplishments, and what made his life feel fulfilled was his family. They were the greatest gifts he had in his beautiful 89 years. Maurice closed his eyes and went to sleep for the final time.