A Last Will and Testament

The hospice nurse escorted John down the hall in a very nursey sort of way.

"Your father's room is right here," she said as she pointed to an open doorway.

John leaned a bit forward to peek in the room without being noticed. His father, George, was almost completely hidden by the tubes and blankets piled on the bed. George had always been pretty skinny, but now it was far worse.

John took a deep breath and walked in. His suit and tie were in distinct contrast to the old worn-out pajamas George was wearing.

The dying man took a moment to notice John, but he tried to smile when he did. The burst of energy was short. though, and George wasn't even able to raise his head off the bed.

The old man's slight nod and weak smile were the extent of the welcome John received. Soon, the older man's eyes were closed once again.

"Hi, dad," John said.

It had been almost fifteen years since he had last seen his father. In fact, John was surprised when the hospice called him because he didn't know his dad was still alive.

Even then, John had no desire to see his father. It was only his wife's intervention that caused John to agree to a visit. It was against his will, but Julie often knew what was best in situations like this. Still, John brooded about the visit the entire flight from Los Angeles to Dallas. Even in the rental car, John thought about turning around a couple of times.

And yet, here he was, standing in front of the man who raised him and yet he despised.

"How are you?"

There was a slight grunt, perhaps in response.

John sat down in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. He looked over at George. The old man was breathing with a bit of difficulty. John couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

After a few questions with no reply, John concluded that George was either asleep or too weak to talk. An hour passed as John sat there, staring at George. The nurse came in a few times to check on her patient.

"He's not got much longer. Maybe a few days," she confided in him in that nursey sort of way. She mistook John's grimace at her behavior to be sadness over the news and tried to comfort him.

"That's OK," John said, waving her off.

By now, it was mid-afternoon. John's flight home was in a few hours so that he could get to an important client meeting in the morning. He glanced at his watch.

"Probably another half hour before I go," John said to himself.

The clock ticked and tocked again and again. John sat there, tempted to leave, but knowing Julie would disapprove.

Finally, the son decided to speak.

"Dad, I don't know if you can hear me or not. But I've come to say good-bye. I won't be coming back to visit again. I'm sorry, but I have too much going on in my life right now to drop everything and stay at the bedside of someone who abandoned me."

John looked at the floor.

"I never understood you, dad. Why would anyone but a fool choose to be a pickpocket? All you ever did was steal people's wallets and go in and out of jail my entire childhood. You were hardly home. The other kids always laughed at me because of you. You were never there for anything that mattered to me!"

John could feel tears starting to develop and he blinked them back.

John continued, "I don't owe you anything! Yeah, I'm a big shot Hollywood lawyer now, but you had nothing to do with it! You never helped me. You just picked people's pockets, got drunk and went to jail."

The old man tried to raise his hand, but couldn't.

"If you're trying to make me stop, well forget it! I spent the entire flight over here thinking about you and do you know what I concluded? . . . I concluded that I owe you nothing! You never did anything for me. I got three lucky breaks in my life, and that's why I'm a success now. Three lucky breaks. Nothing from you!"

Then, as if George had asked him, John began to talk about his success.

"The first lucky break was getting into law school. Yeah. I lied on my application and the dean of our city college -- I you can even call it that -- found out. He wrote a letter to the law school but they accepted me anyway. Years later, he swore to me that he'd mailed the letter with all of the other mail that day, but the law school never got it. That was my first break.

"The second break was marrying Julie. We'd met when I came home one summer and she was visiting her relatives in town. We spent a couple of days together before she had to leave, but I couldn't get up the courage to tell her how much she meant to me. If she hadn't lost her bus ticket for the trip back home, I never would have had the chance to talk to her again. That was my second lucky break."

George seemed to move slightly, but John paid no attention.

"The third was after law school. I had the chance to work in a prestigious Hollywood law firm. But there was another guy who was far more qualified than I was. I did well in my interviews, but I was sure he would get the job. Then, he failed to show up for his last interview because he lost his car keys. What a lucky break! Now, twenty years later, I'm a full partner with a bunch of movie stars for clients!

"And how much help did you give me along the way? Did you pay for college or law school? No! You sponged off me for a year at the end of law school! Did you ever come back later to visit your grandchildren? No! You didn't even come to our wedding! You had violated your probation two weeks before if I remember correctly!"

George made a slight grunting noise that John disregarded.

"I don't need any deathbed apologies from you now. Save that for some nice movie script, not real life."

John got up and straightened his tie.

"I've got to go now," he stated flatly. "Don't worry about the hospice costs -- as if you would anyway -- Julie and I will settle your affairs."

With that, John nodded his head toward George and walked out of the room. With luck, he could grab a good meal somewhere before catching his flight.

The news of George's death came only two days later - sooner than the nurse had predicted. Julie felt sad while John just thought good riddance. As far as he was concerned, once he settled accounts with the hospice, that would be that.

So it was a bit of a surprise when, a few days later, John received a small package from the hospice. He'd expected an envelope with a bill and the death certificate to come in a few weeks, but this small box was a surprise.

Opening the wrapping, John found a handwritten note from the hospice nurse. It explained that George had already gotten rid of most of his effects and had asked that everything that remained be either given away or just thrown out.

"One exception," the nurse wrote, "were these few personal items. Before your father passed, he was able to tell me to send them on to you."

John looked cynically at the small box. What could his father give him now that would make any difference? He ripped open the package and dumped out the contents. There, on his desk, lay a law school letter, a bus ticket, and a car key.

(c) 2016, Kevin H. Grenier